


fics 'n barrels

by deaddybear



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Makin out, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, more to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27825763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaddybear/pseuds/deaddybear
Summary: various drabbles/oneshots!most recent: skwistok - "i'm broken and you can't fix it."
Relationships: Magnus Hammersmith/Pickles The Drummer, More to be added - Relationship, Nathan Explosion/Magnus Hammersmith, Nathan Explosion/Pickles the Drummer, Pickles the Drummer/Toki Wartooth, Skwisgaar Skwigelf/Toki Wartooth
Comments: 27
Kudos: 37





	1. skwistok - snow

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna dump my stuff in here! if u have any requests, visit @squeeto on Tumblr! my ask box is always open

**Skwistok / 2 / “snow”**

“Don’t be a pusschey, you guys! GO GO GO!” Murderface yells from the bottom of the hill, wearing fucking mittens and a Planet Piss pom pom hat where he stands next to the rest of the guys.

“Comes on, Skwisgaar!” Toki exclaims excitedly, Skwisgaar’s blonde hair tickling his nose from where he sits in Toki’s lap. The two of them were forced to cram together into one of those disc-shaped sleds, since Nathan broke his by “being too brutal of a sledder.” Skwisgaar, however, was not in the same holiday spirit as everyone else.

“YOU GUYSCH ARE FUCKING DUTCH, YOURE SUPPOSED TO LOVE THE SCHNOW!”

“Ja rights! I hates the snow!” The blonde groans, the fabric of his white puffer jacket whistling as it rubs against Toki’s black one. “It reminds me too much of homes. The Swedish wintors ams colds and unforgivingks! How does you expects me to—“

“Just shuts up, you dildo!” Toki presses his cheek against Skwisgaar’s, who instantly tries to shove him away. “Heres we goes!”

“DEEUGH—!” Skwisgaar covers his eyes, and Toki launches the two of them down the hill. Nathan, Pickles, and Murderface are all cheering and whistling at the bottom, their disc sled zooming through the snow with a brutal amount of speed. Toki can barely see through the blonde hair whipping around in his face, and he definitely can’t hear through Skwisgaar’s adorably Swedish screaming.

They must hit a rock, because everything goes in slow motion as the sled flies straight through the air, and the two of them wreck before they hit the bottom. Everything’s a mess of limbs and hair and snow, and when everything stops spinning Toki opens his eyes and is met with familiar blue eyes. Skwisgaar landed top of him, blonde hair all in his face, cheeks and the tip of his nose blazing red, and he’s just...staring at Toki. There’s snowflakes in the blonde’s long eyelashes, and Toki can’t stop looking at them in a new awe that he’s never felt before. One of Skwisgaar’s gloved hands comes up, and brushes a piece of hair out of Toki’s face, and it lingers. They might be covered in snow, but Toki thinks he’s burning alive.

And then Skwisgaar jumps off of him like he really had been burned, falling backwards. Toki tried to grab him before he falls, but the two of them end up rolling the rest of the way down the hill. By the time they finally reach the bottom, snow jammed in every possible orifice and their bodies tangled together, the guys are absolutely losing their shit. Murderface has his mitten-clad hands over his eyes, laughing hysterically, and Pickles is leaning against a tree to try and keep himself from keeling over. Even Nathan is fucking laughing, fingerless gloved-hands over his mouth. 

“Snow is fucking brutal,” Nathan chuckles. “Just fucking unforgiving, frozen water. So metal.”

“Ja, maybes...I don’ts hates it so much anymores.” Skwisgaar shrugs a shoulder, and he flashes Toki a smile before he follows the guys to the next hill.


	2. tickles - rhythm

**Tickles / 3 / “rhythm”**

  
“Sos, ja!” Toki beams, legs crossed where he sits on the floor of Magnus’ ratty apartment. They have Roy Cornickelson’s funeral to attend later, and the two of them planned to hang out beforehand and carpool together. “It’s a big secrets, so you cants be tellins anybodies.”

Magnus just stares at him. For an uncomfortably long amount of time, and Toki starts to sweat nervously as he wonders if he said something wrong. Magnus was the coolest father friend he could’ve asked for - he trusted him, and he had this big secret, so why not tell him?

“So you two are...more than friends,” Magnus rests his chin on his palm, and although he’s speaking calmly, Toki swears he can see anger flash behind the man’s eyes.

“Yeps, since his brothers’ weddins in Wisconskins,” Toki can’t help the smile that tugs on the corner of his face. “It didnst starts all romantickals but...”

Magnus waits patiently for Toki to finish, but the brunette trails off and a blush rises to his cheeks. The older man raises an eyebrow, “But what, Toki?”

“Now, it ams,” Toki says softly. “Not to sounds likes a sappy dildos, but...I thinks I loves him.”

It’s the first time he’s ever said that outloud, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. Magnus, however, looks like he’s going to lose it. The older man swallows whatever he’s feeling down, and a smile is back on his face as he stands up from his seat and looks at his watch.

“The funeral’s coming up, huh? Let’s get going,” Magnus says, opening the door for Toki, and the brunette beams as he trustingly follows him to his car.

*

By the time all is said and done - the funeral, the kidnapping, the rescuing - Pickles and Toki finally get a moment alone. Pickles sneaks into Toki’s room the night he’s back, and the minute he crashes into the guitarists’ arms, Pickles feels a weight lift off his soul.

“Fuck dude, I missed you so fucking much, oh my gahd.” Pickles didn’t even care about embarrassing himself as he clutches to Toki with tears rolling, so fucking happy to have the guy back, but he instantly notices something is...wrong. Toki’s stiff in his arms, not saying anything, and it instantly fills Pickles with his usual worried paranoia.

“Toki?” Pickles looks up at him, teary-eyed and trying to keep his breathing from going into full-on asthmatic hyperventilation. “Wh-Whet’s the maetter?”

Toki swallows, eyes on the ground, still looking so pale and hurt and fragile. Pickles blinks, gently putting a hand on the brunette’s clammy face, “Hey. Tahk to me.”

“You haves a thing for rhythm guitarists, ja?”

Pickles blinks, heart dropping into his throat as he pulls back to look at Toki, “Hah?”

Toki’s voice is scratchy, and desolate, and he doesn’t meet Pickles’ eyes. “I knows...about yous and Magnus.”

Pickles swallows audibly, bottom lip wobbling as he smashes his face back against Toki’s chest and squeezes his eyes shut. “Toki, did he...did he know? About us?”

Toki nods, once, and Pickles’ heart drops.

“So that just gave ‘im another reason to take his shit out on you,” Pickles sighs, hugging Toki harder. “Fuck, Toki. I’m so fuckin’ sahrry...”

Toki’s voice sounds so unlike himself, as he says, “I tolds him before the funerals. He was alreadies angries with me for takins his spot in the bands...and thens I stoles you from hims too...”

“You didn’t steal me,” Pickles looks at Toki, gripping desperately to his shirt. “That fucker ain’t got shit on you, dude.”

“He saids you weres in loves,” Toki’s eyes squeeze shut, but no tears come. “He saids you tolds him...”

Toki trails off, shaking his head, as whatever Magnus said to him was too painful. Pickles could only imagine the things that fucker drilled into Toki’s head, about their relationship, about Pickles. Or the beatings he got, for taking something Magnus thought was still his. It was a surprise Toki didn’t fucking hate him at this point.

“Listen t’ me,” Pickles puts his hands on either sides of Toki’s face, and blue eyes finally meet his green ones. “I said a lot of fucking shit I didn’t mean to Magnus, alright?”

Toki tries to look away again, bottom lip wobbling, but Pickles isn’t having it. The drummer presses their foreheads together tenderly, directing Toki’s face back to him.

“I know I didn’t say it to you, dude. And that was a fucking mistake,” Pickles leans forward, and kisses him with a gentleness he didn’t know he was capable of. “It ain’t a rhythm guitarist thing. It’s a goddamn Toki Wartooth thing. I fucking love you. I should’ve told you earlier, because for a while there I was thinkin’ I’d never get the chance.”

Now the tears come, and Toki crumbles against him. Pickles wraps his arms around him tightly, holding him for as long as he needs, and so fucking happy to have Toki back in his arms again.

“I loves you toos,” Toki sobs, grabbing Pickles’ face and kissing him, and the two of them melt into each other. When Toki falls asleep cuddled up against Pickles’ chest, the drummer holds a middle finger to the floor, hoping it reaches Magnus in hell.

He found the rhythm guitarist for him, and nobody was gonna take that from him again.


	3. tickles - grinding

**Tickles (and some Skwistok) / 9 / “grinding”**

Everybody knows Toki is a...handsy drunk. It’s always been that way, ever since the guys gave him his first beer and he nearly sent Murderface into a gay crisis with his uncontrollable urge to kiss and touch. Then, Toki found his comfort in Skwisgaar, and whenever he was drunk the blonde was on the receiving end of all Toki’s affections. **  
**

Pickles watched it over the years, and it was pretty fucking funny seeing the usually unflappable guitarist turn into a nervous wreck as Toki would hang all over him. Toki would try and sneak slobbery kisses on Skwisgaar’s face, slide his hands under the blonde’s shirt or up his thigh. Sometimes he’d (loudly) whisper things that made Skwisgaar blush madly and shove him away. It was always fun to watch, because other people’s discomfort is hilarious. Now, maybe, the memories of Toki hanging all over Skwisgaar aren’t as funny to Pickles.

Something changed, somewhere down the line. Between Toki and Pickles. Toki started coming into Pickles’ room at night, when he’d have nightmares about his time in captivity and he was too embarrassed to ask anyone else for help. Pickles didn’t know exactly why Toki picked him instead of Skwisgaar, but he wasn’t complaining. He got to spoon a warm body with fuckin’ rock hard abs every other night, and it was...nice. Too nice, and then it got even nicer.

One night Toki turned around and kissed him and it was all over for Pickles after that. He couldn’t say no, because goddamnit, he’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about turning their sleepovers into something more than just sleeping. So now they were doing...that. Sometimes. And it was pretty metal, and sneaking around was weirdly hot, but they were both adamant that the other guys don’t find out. Skwisgaar, especially, was the problem - it was obvious to everyone except for Toki that the blonde’s had a crush on him since he first joined the band. How did Pickles always end up in these stupid love triangles? Except this time, he fucking won.

When it happens, the guys are at their favorite club, trying to celebrate a momentous occasion. Murderface finally got shit together and released a single for Planet Piss. It barely has any words, and it was engineered (uncredited, of course) by Toki, but the bassist was still incredibly proud of himself for accomplishing something and the band was there to support it. And there were also there to get fucked up - and Toki, unfortunately, was steadily getting more and more wasted.

“This ams, how does you say, my jams!’” Toki yells loudly, slamming his hands onto the table and pushing himself up and away as a sickening pop song blares overhead. The remaining four members of Dethklok look at each other uneasily- one of them was going to have to be on Toki Patrol, and risk getting groped in the middle of the club.

“Eugh, I guess Is steps up and bes his stupids babysittors as usukuals,” Skwisgaar rolls his eyes, starting to stand up, but Pickles beats him to it.

“It’s cool, dude,” Pickles tries to say as non-suspiciously as possible, inching away from the table. “I’m the, uh, expert. On bein’ drunk, sooooo...who better to watch Toki than me?”

Skwisgaar’s eyes narrow, “I’ves been watchingks that little dildo since he was ams teenager. You cants just comes in heres and—“

Hands grab Pickles by his shoulders, dragging him into the middle of the club as the lights in the room change in tandem with the song playing. They all came to this club trying to look relatively nice, because that’s what Murderface demanded - now Toki’s dress shirt is unbuttoned and completely opened, his hair a mess. He’s grinning sloppily at the drummer, the pink lights above them dancing on his eyes, and fuck, he shouldn’t be this goddamn hot.

“Whaddya doin’, dude?” Pickles raises an eyebrow, gesturing to the shitty poppy song playing overhead. “Thought this was yer fuckin’ jam.”

“ _You_ ams my jam,” Toki throws his arms around Pickles, kissing the side of his neck sloppily. “Cants dance dirties withouts yous.”

Pickles feels his face catch on fire, and his eyes dart back to their table nervously. Skwisgaar is staring at them, jaw set, and Pickles knows that as long as he keeps things PG-13 out on this dance floor, he’ll be able to get out of this scot-free. He can hide behind the excuse that is just how Toki is when he’s drunk. He—

Toki sways where he stands as he grabs Pickles’ hands, and starts kissing his fingers. Pickles’ eyebrows skyrocket into his hairline as he quickly tries to pull his hands away, face on fire, but instead Toki places them on his fucking perfect goddamn abs.

“Fuck, that ain’t fair,” Pickles glares at the rhythm guitarist, unable to stop his own hands as they slide up and down tight, toned skin. “You know I fuckin’ can’t say no to the abs.”

Toki giggles, the lights and the song washing over them, and Pickles almost feels like he’s being hypnotized. Toki leans in, just about to brush his lips against the drummer’s, but then he turns away and leans all his weight back on Pickles’ front. He puts Pickles’ hands on his toned hips, and ho-ly fuck. Toki is shamelessly grinding on Pickles and he probably couldn’t stop him even if he wanted to, which he vaguely recognizes that he does not.

“Toki, we, ahhhh, we can’t—“ Pickles shakes his head, trying his hardest not to move his hips back against Toki’s firm ass. “The guys can fucking see us...”

“Whos cares?” Toki glances back at him over his shoulder, and Pickles swallows thickly. “We ams celebratins Moiderface, sos, it’s onlies fittings that we gets a little gays, right?”

Pickles laughs. He can’t help it. This is so fucked up, and where the fuck did Toki learn to dance like this? Pickles glances at their table again, and while Skwisgaar is gone, nobody else is paying any attention to them. Pickles has never been good at saying no to things - especially when said things entail a sweet ass rubbing against his crotch, so he says fuck it. He tangles a hand in Toki’s hair like a leash and he channels his inner Snakes ‘n Barrels circa 1985 self, and they’re bumpin’ and grindin’ up a dirty symphony.

Toki pushes away from Pickles, grabs him by the collar of his shirt, and kiss him. Pickles instantly makes a noise and grabs Toki’s face desperately, tongue in his mouth, and he tastes like vodka and those sugar free gummy bears he eats, and Pickles is fucking too riled up to care about anything. Until he feels a finger tapping on his shoulder, that is, and he hazily breaks away from Toki to see Skwisgaar standing there, not looking too happy.

“Whats the fucks ams this,” Skwisgaar gestures to the scene in front of him, absolutely seething. Pickles starts stammering, eyes darting back and forth, because ohhhh fuck. Skwisgaar looks fucking pissed, and what if he tells the guys? What if they kick him and Toki out of the band for messing with dynamics and shit? Pickles was foiled again by his inability to deny himself some ass.

Toki, meanwhile, is too drunk to give a fuck about the consequences of his dirty dancing. “Skwisgaar! You fuckins Swedish dildo,” Toki throws his arms around the blonde instantly, and Pickles feels his own stab of jealousy. He and Skwisgaar stand there, glaring at each other, lightning crackling between the two of them.

“Wowee, this is the greatest clubs in the woild! I fuckins love Planets Piss!” Toki hangs off Skwisgaar, arms around the blonde’s neck as he leans back and plants a kiss to the corner of Pickles’ mouth. The drummer merely blinks at him, feeling way too weirdly jealous and confused, and honestly kind of terrified of what Skwisgaar will say to him.

Finally, the blonde leans in as Toki still hangs off of him, eyes furiously dark. “You needs to stops this with Toki. Nows.”

Pickles raises an eyebrow, “Dude. The band will be fine. We ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrahng, and—“

“Fucks the band,” Skwisgaar hisses at him. “Toki ams supposeds to be mines, does you not undorstandks?”

Pickles blinks at Skwisgaar. Well, looks like he was right about that crush after all. Pickles’ eyes harden, “Well, ya snooze ya lose, Skwisgaar. You got all the skanks in the world to—“

“He mights be with yous now, but I ams always goingks to be his bests friend,” Skwisgaar tilts his chin up haughtily. “It ams onlies a mattors of time befores he comes to his senses. It ams a shame that yous will gets yourself horts.”

Pickles’ eyebrows lower, and he glares challengingly back at the blonde. “I know you don’t like to lose, dude. So this is gonna really fucking suck for you.”

The two of them continue glowering at each other intensely, before Toki swings between the two of them dramatically, drunken eyes closed. “What ams we talkins about?”

“Ohs, nothings,” Skwisgaar smirks at Pickles. “Just a littles friendlies compketitions, is alls.”

Pickles can’t help but chuckle to himself. This blonde asshole is so going down.


	4. tickles - first kiss

**Tickles / 14 / “first kiss”**

“Pickle?” Pickles’ eyes slowly crack open, the bottle he had fallen asleep holding slipping out of his hand and softly clattering onto his rug. It registers to him that there are soft hands shaking his bare shoulder, and he makes a noncommittal noise as he tries to shut his eyes and go back to sleep. 

“Pickle,” the voice repeats, shaking, a hint of desperation to it. “I-Is has anothers bad dreams...” 

Pickles wakes up just a tiny bit at this. Toki’s been back for a couple of months now, and the poor guy has really been struggling with his PTSD or whatever the fuck. No matter how tough Pickles likes to act, he’s admittedly, infuriatingly soft and gooey on the inside. He can’t turn Toki away, and he’s honestly a little flattered that the guitarist comes to him and not the other guys. He could see Nathan being too intimidating, and Murderface too much of a dick, but he didn’t understand why Skwisgaar wasn’t Toki’s first choice. 

In the past two months, he and Toki have done this song and dance enough to have gotten into something of a routine. Pickles opens up his arms, and Toki smashes right into them with more force than he’d imagined the guy would have. Pickles arms are gentle as they curl around him, chin on Toki’s head and the brunettes face against his chest. Toki lets out a shuddery sigh, hugging Pickles tightly as his shaking slowly starts to fade away. 

It’s...nice, Pickles has to admit. He can’t remember the last time he got to hold someone like this, and even then, it was probably someone he never saw again past one night. Toki is firm and warm and he always smells like something hypnotically dark, and honestly, after worrying about where he was for so long, Pickles almost liked getting to hold him all night and know he was safe. Which sounds pretty gay when he thinks about it, but whatever. 

“Thanks you, Pickle,” Toki murmurs gratefully against his chest, and Pickles hums in response.

”No prahblem,” Pickles yawns easily. “I told ya that you don’t have to wake me up, remember? You can just get in here with me.” 

“I knows, I’m sorries,” Toki nuzzles against him, voice hushed. Pickles’ eyebrows quirk a bit as Toki hugs him tighter, more protectively. Pickles whispers, “Y’alright?”

“Ums,” Toki whispers back, and Pickles cracks open an eye and looks down at the brunette. He’s startled by the way Toki’s eyes look, full of moonlight and...is that longing? Fuck. Although nobody’s looked at him like that in a long time, he’s familiar with that look. But it’s Toki. There’s no way...

Errr, Toki?” Pickles’ eyes dart back and forth, face flushing. “I don’t—“ 

Pickles’ voice is cut off in as Toki leans in and kisses him. He can’t help the little shocked noise that bubbles out of his throat at the contact, eyes huge before Toki’s gentle kissing slowly coaxes them into sliding closed. 

Kissing a bandmate is like, the least metal thing you can do. Pickles knows, because he’s done it a fucking lot over the years. Never once has it ended well - not with Tony, not with Magnus, and if he ever would’ve gotten the balls to try and win over Nathan, that probably wouldn’t have ended well either. Sure, anyone with eyes could tell Toki is hot - but Pickles never...he never thought...

Toki’s hands are on his face, thumbing over Pickles’ cheekbones. His lips are on his, trying to convey some type of emotion that Pickles doesn’t understand, and their bodies are so close together. He’s so fucking warm, and so surprisingly gentle, and Pickles feels like his entire brain is malfunctioning. Especially when Toki pulls away just a fraction, eyes nervous and the bottom caught between his teeth.

“Uh. Dood. What was thet,” Pickles whispers, eyes wide in the darkness, and he can feel Toki’s breath against his lips.

“I wanteds to...ums. Kiss yous,” Toki traces his fingers against Pickles’ cheek again, and the drummer’s breath catches in his throat. “Fors a longs time, actuallies.”

“Oh,” Pickles breathes, eyes darting around. “Well...uh. Why?”

Toki parrots, “Whys?”

“Yee-ah. Like. Why me?” Pickles feels his face burn, and now he’s the one gnawing on his bottom lip. “You could do this with any hot groupie off the street, dude. Not yer fuckin’ drummer, yknow?”

Toki smiles at him, in the same gentle way he kissed Pickles with just moments ago, “I wants to kiss yous because I don’t want to kiss just anybodies. I want it to bes with someone whats I cares about.”

Pickles’ face is absolutely on fire. Fuck his Irish skin, because he knows Toki’s gotta be able to see his face blazing. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just kind of makes a humming sound of assent and tries not to think of Toki’s rock hard abs pressed against his stomach.

“Ams it okays?” Toki noses against his throat, and Pickles’ breath stutters. “For us to does the kissins sometimes.”

“I dunno, dude,” Pickles swallows, shaking just a little bit. “I kinda have a...pattern, of fucking bandmates, and I shouldn’t—“

“But you wants to?”

Pickles swallows, closing his eyes as Toki kisses the corner of his mouth. “Yeeah. I, uhhm. Yeah, I do.”

Toki kisses him again, and this time, Pickles doesn’t hesitate before kissing back. He may have a pattern of making mistakes, but he also has a pattern of just saying fuck it and going from there. This would be Morning Pickles’ problem, and tonight, he says fuck it, and he melts into Toki. 


	5. skwistok - kiss me

**kissing prompt / skwistok / 3 - a breathy demand: “kiss me” , and what the other person does to respond**

“Skwisgaar, I can’t does it anymores!” Toki nearly throws his guitar down in frustration, fingers aching as he grips at his own hair. “I wonts be ables to play that fast, evors!”

“If you dids your fucking fingors drills, then we wouldnst be havingks this problems!” Skwisgaar hisses, sporting that little crease in his forehead when he gets angry that Toki is all too familiar with. “Whats ams I supposeds to does to gets it through to yous that you needs to takes this seriouslies?”

“Ims just nots as goods as yous!” Toki moans, fists knocking against his forehead, and Skwisgaar glares at him as he rolls his eyes.

“Obviouslies. But if you amnst playingks your best, then _I’m_ not playingks my best,” Skwisgaar snaps. “And we cants ruins the fuckings shows because you ams overthinkings it. I knows you can play this, you stupids dildo.”

“Over—?” Toki strangles the air with his hands, face flush with frustration. “Skwisgaar, it’s imposkiblies!”

Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow, glaring at Toki as he quickly pounds out every riff perfectly that the brunette has been failing to play. Toki feels his skin heat furiously, the envy and need to prove himself practically strangling him. Before he gets a chance to open his mouth and tell the blonde to go fuck himself, Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow at him and takes a step forward.

“Kiss mes.”

Toki blinks, eyebrows raising, fury put on hold. He looks back and forth, leaning closer because he’s sure he heard incorrectly, “Whuts?”

“Kiss. Mes.” Skwisgaar’s voice is low, demanding, and leaves no room for argument. Toki just stares at him, heart hammering in his chest, skin buzzing, because he has to be mistaken. He has be, because why on earth would Skwisgaar want to kiss him? He doesn’t understand, but Skwisgaar’s got this dark, predatory look in his eye, and Toki’s drawn to him like a moth to a flame as he steps closer.

He’s so fucking beautiful. It’s really unfair, and it shouldn’t be allowed. Toki remembers the first time he ever saw the blonde - glowing in the shadows of the building he first auditioned in, dressed all in white like an angel. His blonde hair spilled over his shoulders like clouds of honey, and even shrouded in darkness his eyes were still so fucking blue. After a lifetime of grayness and snow, it was like he had finally found his blue skies, and finally reached the ocean. He figured his awe of the man’s beauty would die down, with time, but it never did.

Especially not now, as Toki’s eyes rake up and down Skwisgaar. So tall, and chiseled, and golden. Expecting the world from Toki and frustrated that the brunette can’t give it to him, because he holds him in a higher reguard than he’s actually worth. Toki is clumsy, and stupid, and not even that good at the guitar. In the grand scheme of things, he’s nothing compared to Skwisgaar in any department.

But he wants to be. He really, really wants to be as good as Skwisgaar in some way. He wants Skwisgaar to _want_ him, and judging by the look on the blonde’s face, he might’ve just gotten his wish. Skwisgaar tips his chin up, looking stoic and bored and sassy, and Toki feels that competitive energy rise up into his throat as he does what the blonde asks, and crashes their lips together.

Skwisgaar has Toki slammed up against the plexiglass of the recording room almost instantly. He kisses with a burning, methodical passion - like he’s going to take Toki apart in every way, and he prays to god that Skwisgaar follows through with that as he grabs fistfuls of the blonde’s shirt. Long fingers thread through his hair, full lips push and pull with a seasoned perfection against his own. It’s so fucking good, and Toki feels like he’s burning alive as he moans into Skwisgaar’s mouth, and—

Skwisgaar stops. He pulls back, eyebrow arching, and Toki accidentally lets a desperate whimper escape his throat as his face absoloutely flames.

“Poor little babies Tokis. You wants mores, hmm?” Skwisgaar purrs, cupping his face, a glint of something devious in his eyes as Toki nods his head desperately. “Then does it right, and I’ll gives it to yous.”

Toki’s hands shake as he forces himself away from Skwisgaar, picking up his guitar and taking a couple steadying breaths. He looks up at Skwisgaar, all kiss-bitten and flushed and smug, and he knows he needs to fucking play this right so they can get back to what they were just doing.

So, he does. He takes a deep breath, and he plays it. He doesn’t miss one fucking note, and he plays it faster than he even knew he was capable of playing. When Toki’s given a challenge, and a goal worth trying for, then it’s pretty damn hard to stop him. When he looks back up at the blonde, the proudness on his face makes Toki’s chest constrict, and he feels like he’s suddenly about to cry. Skwisgaar kissed him, and he’s proud of him, and there’s nothing more he could want in the entire world than that.

“Theres you goes,” Skwisgaar smirks, shoes clicking as he walks towards him with a deliciously predatory glint in his eyes. “You helds up your ends. Now I’s holdingks up mines.”

He cups Toki’s face, almost lovingly, and the brunette feels like he’s drunk as he gets lost in the blue ocean of Skwisgaar’s eyes. He feels so love-drunk as he breathes, “Skwisgaar...”

“Maybes I should gives you an incenktives more oftens,” Skwisgaar tucks a piece of hair behind Toki’s ear, and then he’s kissing him again. Toki melts, knees buckling, and he really hopes Skwisgaar makes it a habit to start incorporating these types of lessons into their routine.


	6. tickles - accidental kiss

**Kissing prompt / tickles / 4 - an accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose**

Even after they guys quit their diet, sometimes, they still get together for meet-n-eats in the closet. Toki thinks there’s something fun about it - hiding in the closet with all his favorite people, eating in the dark and talking about nothing and everything.

Today turns out to be different, however. Every week, they alternate who gets to pick the location, just to spice things up. Murderface picked the janitor’s supply closet, which sounded metal in theory, because it smelled like chemicals and they could make fun of people who actually had to clean things up for a living. In real life, however, it’s a different story. It’s cramped. Very cramped. The five of them are too stubborn to back down, so they all cram themselves into this closet and start trying their best to eat.

Toki’s back is pressed against the wall in the pitch blackness, Skwisgaar jammed against his left and Murderface trying to choke down some hot dogs on his right. The noises he was making as he ate them was...less than appealing, but the darkness of the closet was the only place Murderface felt comfortable enough eating phallic-shaped food, and Toki couldn’t ruin that for him by complaining. Pickles is across from him, back against the opposite wall and smushed against Nathan - the closet is so tiny that one of his feet brushes against Toki’s own socked foot.

“Guys. I think we, uh. Miscalculated our space here,” Nathan’s voice rumbles through the darkness, and everyone instantly mumbles over their food in agreement.

“Look, how wasch I supposed to know janitors don’t get treated with goddamn descenchy around here!” Murderface hisses as he waves a hand, accidentally jostling Toki next to him. Toki stumbles, knocking into Pickles, who makes one of his whiny-complaining noises as Toki quickly whispers out a, “Sorries!”

“I thinks we shoulds maybes invest in a closets, whats am just for eatingks in,” Skwisgaar says airily, fidgeting around as he messes with the sandwich Toki packed him. His elbows send Toki stumbling forwards again, and this time he has to put a hand out to stop himself from careening right into Pickles. His palm lands on his drummer’s chest - which, oh, that’s...firm - and he feels himself linger. Pickles’ breathing picks up just a little bit, chest heaving faster, and Toki manages to pull his hand away while breathing out another apology.

“Ohhh boy, this is naht workin’ for me,” Pickles’s frustrated Wisconsin drawl cuts through the darkness. “How ‘bout we just get outta here and eat somewhere else? We got this giant fuckin’ house and the only place we can think of to shame-eat is in the goddamn janitor’s closet?”

“Wells if we hads an eatingks closets, alls of our problems woulds be solveds! Right Toki? Backs me ups heres!” Skwisgaar nudges Toki with a bit too much force, and the brunette falls forwards again. This time, he has to grab the drummer’s shoulders for purchase, and they both go stumbling. Pickles’ back hits the wall, and Toki smashes into him, chests bumping and noses brushing and lips faintly brushing together.

“Fuck,” Pickles gasps, and Toki’s entire body jolts as their lips make that quick, accidental contact, but neither of them can pull away. Everyone else in the closet is trying to figure out how to readjust in the darkness, and get themselves some more room - Nathan absorbs Toki’s spot, and there’s suddenly physically no room for Toki to let go of Pickles and back the fuck up.

But now...being crushed up against his drummer like this suddenly doesn’t feel so unpleasant. Pickles’ breath is hot and unsteady against Toki’s neck, and it’s like he can feel every curve of the drummer’s body against him. He smells so fucking good - like weed and cigarettes and cologne so expensive that it almost smells cheap, and it’s intoxicating. He swears Pickles is gazing up at him in the darkness, and if Toki wasn’t so scared of Pickles getting pissed at him, he’d manage to press himself even closer, he’d—

There’s hands maneuvering his face, grabbing it on either sides, and then silently crashing their lips together. It takes everything in Toki not to make a noise of surprise, of burning pleasure, but there’s no way he’s fucking this up, so he keeps quiet. They’re kissing as if it’s all they’ve thought about for the past ten years - and truthfully, Toki maybe thought about it once or twice, but it never seemed...realistic, in any way...

Pickles is like a fucking animal - one of his hands is already under Toki’s shirt, one of his legs is wrapped around Toki’s waist, and the ball of his tongue rolls against Toki’s unstudded one with a wild hysteria. Toki’s got a fistful of dreds and a handful of ass, and he swallows Pickles’ moan as he bites the drummer’s bottom lip, as his hand squeezes—

“Yeah, I mean. I guess we look into having an eating closet. But fuck that janitor, I don’t want him trying to use it,” Nathan’s voice rumbles, causing them both to freeze mid-make out.

“Of course it ams a good ideas, because I cames up with its,” Skwisgaar says, mouth full of sandwich, and something about the fact that all their bandmates are right here and have no idea the two of them are fucking groping each other in the closet is...really fucking hot. “Toki? Ams you in the food comas? This ams the longest you’ve been quiets for.”

“U-uhhhms,” Toki’s voice sounds so breathy, and Pickles leans in and starts sloppily kissing his neck. “I-I, I, I amnst hungry anymores! I needs...to do Toki stuffs, in my rooms, sos. Pickle, woulds you likes to helps?”

“Aw, fuck yeeeeah dude.” He can’t see him, but Toki knows Pickles is smiling against his neck in that lopsided, devious way that shouldn’t be as fucking cute as it is. The closet door slams open as Toki practically rushes out. Pickles is right at his heels, the two of them practically running down the hallway before Pickles grins crookedly and shoves him through the door of his room. Maybe they should try eating in a small closet more often.


	7. magpickles - the old you

**Magpickles / Angst #26 - “I miss the old you”**

“Gahd,” Pickles cups Magnus’ chiseled face, the air of his Snakes ‘n Barrels dressing room thick with hairspray and weed as a poppy 80’s song blasts overhead. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, Maggie.”

The corner of Magnus’ mouth kicks up into a grin, and then they’re kissing - it’s so passionate that it’s blinding, and Pickles has spent almost every day since he’s gotten famous high as hell, but nothing gets him higher than he feels when he’s with Magnus. _This could be forever_ , he thinks, as soft lips slide against his own.

“You’ve got a show in ten minutes, Pickles,” Magnus purrs against his lips, carding a hand through wild red hair. “You wouldn’t wanna get distracted and disappoint your biggest fan.”

“Yeah yeah, I know, dude. You love seein’ me shake it on stage,” Pickles winks at him, kissing him one more time before hopping off his lap. He adjusts his thigh-high boots, looking over himself in the mirror before turning back to Magnus, “Y’wanna wait fer me to go the ahfterparty?”

“I’ll wait for you,” Magnus nods, and Pickles grins at him lovingly before slipping out the door.

**

“Pickles.”

“Magnus.”

Fuck. When Pickles started his night, he did not expect it to end this way: standing in his bathrobe at Toki’s rock camp and staring his ex-boyfriend in the face. God, it’s been so long since he last saw Magnus. Ten years, maybe - he’s got a gray streak in his hair now, which is kinda weirdly hot, and he almost forgot how tall he is, and— _no_. He needs to stop that train of thought right the fuck now, especially as Toki is dragged away by Skwisgaar and leaves the two of them standing there alone.

“So,” Magnus says, not looking at Pickles as he stares at the rest of the band. Murderface has gone into Dad Mode, lecturing Toki about talking to strangers. Skwisgaar is checking him over, angrily trying to make sure he isn’t hurt. “That’s my replacement, huh?”

“He’s a good kid,” Pickles mutters, looking away. He tries not to think about the days when Magnus was in Dethklok instead of Toki. Toki is easy to be around, easy to work with - Magnus was none of those things. He definitely wasn’t easy to be around - they spent a good majority of their time in the band together being fucked up and toxic and breaking each other’s hearts. But before Dethklok? Before that, Pickles had been fucking head over heels for Magnus. For _years_. The guy was all he thought about, all he could focus on - he glances over at the guitarist, and his heart twists with an emotion Pickles isn’t familiar with.

“I’m glad it’s working out,” Magnus says, even though he doesn’t really sound like he means that. They make eye contact, daring a glance at each other at the same time - then quickly break it. Magnus clears his throat, “You seem like you’re doing...well.”

“Yeeeah, well, y’know. Just playin’ the hits.” Pickles shrugs, and fuck him, because he asks, “What about you? This doesn’t, ahhm, seem...your style.”

“That’s obscurity for you,” Magnus mutters, and Pickles swallows thickly. His tone picks back up into indifference, “It pays the bills.”

Pickles hums, patting his hands against his thighs. Magnus looks at him, raising an eyebrow with a tiny smirk, “You’re leg-drumming. Nervous?”

Fuck. Pickles’ face heats, “Sahrry. Nobody else really notices I do thet.”

“It’s nice to see something about you hasn’t changed,” Magnus says, and Pickles instantly feels some sort of anger spike in him. Is Magnus really implying that _Pickles_ is the one who changed? That Pickles is the reason shit didn’t work out? But before he can open his mouth, and fall back into fighting with Magnus like it’s second nature, the guitarist’s voice lowers, “I miss the old you.”

“The old me,” Pickles echoes, and Magnus smiles nostalgically.

“The alley kid with a big-ass leather jacket who kicked in my door and demanded I help him book his first gig,” Magnus says, tilting his chin up to the night sky. “Or the rockstar with an extra six inches of hair who’d dance to fucking Cyndi Lauper while he did his makeup.”

“Aw, fuck,” Pickles can’t help but laugh, hands over his face. “Don’t fuckin’ bring Cyndi into this, dude.”

“I have to admit, I miss the leather pants too,” Magnus says airily, and Pickles feels heat creep up his face. “Although, they weren’t very easy getting off.”

Now Pickles’ face really catches on fire, and that spike of anger comes back, “Gahddammit, Maggie, you can’t say shit like—“

Magnus realizes what he’s said at the same time Pickles does. The drummer’s eyes widen, face flushing, and his entire body twitches. _Maggie_. He called him fucking Maggie - the old, lovey-dovey pet name. The name that’d bubble out of his throat in wild fits of laughter as the two of them danced all over each other in the club, the name that he’d groan out as Magnus took him apart in the back of his Snakes ‘n Barrels tour bus, the name tattooed underneath his left wristband that he still had yet to get inked over.

The smirk that had been on Magnus’ face wipes clean off, replaced with an unreadable type of longing, and the dark haired man opens his mouth to say something. But then Murderface grabs his arm and is yelling in his ear about getting back on the bus, and Pickles doesn’t look back as he’s pulled away. When they get home, and Toki talks about his new friend Magnus, Pickles raises a glass to him before drinking himself into oblivion. Maybe Toki would have more luck then he did, and maybe Pickles would manage to drink to forget how much he misses the old him, too.


	8. tickles - crushing me

**Tickles / Fluff #41 - “You are crushing me right now.”**

Toki slumps down on the couch, pouting and miserable as he taps his foot and crosses his arms. He waits for someone to say something to him, just like he’d been waiting all day long - Nathan and Murderface sit on the floor, yelling at each other as they violently play Mario Kart. Skwisgaar is passed out in the hot tub, an empty bottle of vodka floating in the water next to him. Toki waits, and he waits, but nobody seems to remember what very special day today is.

Toki makes big deals out of all their birthdays - he always is sure to get them super thoughtful presents, decorate their rooms, throw parties. So how is it fair that they’ve forgotten his? Even just a simple _“happy birthday, Toki, we love you and you make the band so much better”_ would make his entire day. His entire _year_ , even. But the hours tick by, and the day basically passes, and nothing happens.

Toki sighs heavily as he drags his feet, trudging off to his room with his self-chosen bottle of depressed birthday tequila in his hand. If his friends weren’t going to celebrate with him, he could still try to make the most of his night and get wasted by himself. He opens the door to his room, and flicks on his light, and—

“Happy birthday, dude!” Pickles jumps up from where he was sitting on the bed, party hat crooked on his head, mega bottle of whiskey in one hand and a fat spliff in the other. There’s a birthday banner hanging lopsidedly from the ceiling, and a bag of balloons that never got blown up thrown on the floor. Next to the balloons, there’s a box from the bakery down the street with the words “sugar-free” scribbled in marker on the outside of it.

Toki just stares at him, jaw dropped, and Pickles beams, “Y’didn’t think I’d ferget yer birthday, didja? Twenty five’s halfway to thirty, dude! That’s a big fuckin’ deal!”

Toki just keeps staring at him, bottle of tequila dropping out of his hand, but Pickles doesn’t seem to notice as he keeps on talking, “Yeeeah, I was gonna decorate better, but...then I figured I could make the Klakateers do it because I ain’t thet good at homemakin’ n’ shit. But then I got all busy wit yer present, and—! Oh! Yeah, dude, check this out.”

Pickles sets down the spliff and whiskey as he reaches underneath Toki’s bed, and thrusts a sloppily-wrapped package at him. Toki blinks as he takes it, fingers shaking as he tears off the paper. In his hands, he holds a stuffed bear, with a cute little devil tail sewn onto the back of it. Pickles is shaking his arm excitedly, “It’s a fuckin’ bear, dude! Get it, cuz yknow, y’like stupid cute shit like that, but this lil’ guy is fuckin’ metal. See the devil tail?”

Toki is so, so overwhelmed with emotion, that he’s afraid he’s going to do the thing where his body just shuts itself off. Pickles seems to notice he isn’t saying anything, and his excited expression seems to falter into something of concern, “You alreeght?”

Finally, the warmth explodes in Toki’s chest all at once, the tears brimming the corners of his eyes, as he sweeps Pickles into what’s possibly the biggest hug he’s ever given, “Oh, Pickle! T-This ams—! This ams _perfects_ , ohs my gods!”

Pickles stifles a laugh, face muffled by the brunette’s brushing grip. “Toki. Yer crushin’ me right now.”

“I donts cares! I nevors wants to lets goes of yous!” Toki plants a wet, sloppy kiss on the drummer’s cheek, and Pickles’ face catches on fire as he sputters out some embarrassed, unintelligible noises.

“Jesus Christ, dude. It ain’t no big deal, I did a pretty shitty jahb,” His drummer shrugs, rolling his eyes fondly.

Toki releases him from the death hug to hold him out by the shoulders, “You dids an _amazins_ job! This ams the best birthdays of my entires lifes! Looks at all this!”

Toki releases Pickles to pick back up his bear, eyes starry as he gives it a similarly crushing hug, “I’m goins to names him Deaddy! Likes Teddy, but because he ams brutals!”

Pickles laughs, cheeks red as he wipes Toki’s spit off his cheek. He gestures to the devil tail, “Had to call my fuckin’ mothurr so she could re-teach me how to sew, so. I’m glad you like ‘im.”

Toki feels his heart absolutely throb in his chest, cheeks warming as he whispers in awe, “You dids that for mes?”

“It’s a useful skill to have,” Pickles tips his chin up indignantly, face reddening again. A big, watery smile splits Toki’s face as he wraps Pickles in another, gentler hug. The drummer huffs before hugging him back, and the brunette whispers against his dreds, “ _Thanks you_ , Pickle.”

“Don’t mention it, dude,” Pickles murmurs, leaning into the hug, holding Toki close. “Y’wanna get high now?”

Toki shakes his head, melting into the embrace, “In a little bits. I just wants to hugs yous right nows.”

“Well..it’s _yer_ birthday,” Pickles shrugs, and he can feel a smile against his shoulder as the two of them hold onto each other. He leaves the crooked banner that Pickles put up for the entire rest of the year, and whenever he feels left out or lonely, he looks up and remembers the moment where Pickles grabbed the reigns and took control of his entire heart.


	9. skwistok - when youre sober

**Skwistok / general #1 / “I love you” “tell me that when you’re sober”**

Toki’s just about to fall asleep, when the door to his room loudly is shoved open. He cracks open an eye in sleepy annoyance, and of fucking course, it’s the blonde-haired bane of his existence. In the light of the hallway, Toki can see his messy hair, the empty bottle dangling from his right hand, the monogrammed sleeping robe he’s wearing slipping off a shoulder.

“Skwisgaar. Goes backs to beds, I’m tryins to sleeps,” Toki groans into his pillow, but the Swede ignores him as always. He slams the door behind him, stumbling into the room and nearly falling flat on his face at least twice before he reaches Toki’s bed.

“Wells wells wells, look whats we havingks heres,” he slurs, flopping onto Toki’s small mattress dramatically. His cold hands settle on Toki’s face, smushing his cheeks together, “If it amnst the stupids babies whats ams findingks his, eugh, _true loves_ on the interwebs.”

Toki rolls his eyes, face heating. The two of them have been very on and off, over the years. Right now, they were a very hard off - so much so, that it had inspired Toki to flip him a giant middle finger in the form of online dating. If Skwisgaar was never going to come around, then Toki would take his romantic fate into his own hands. He’d find the perfect girl who loves him for him, who actually wants to be with him, and they’d be happy together.

He knew, with Skwisgaar, that things were never going to go anywhere, never going to be the way Toki wanted them to be - he just turned twenty-six, and he isn’t getting any younger. He’s been waiting his whole life, for his soulmate; there have been times where he’s thought it was Skwisgaar, but...the blonde would never be able to settle down, to commit, to make up his mind. If it were up to Toki, the two of them would’ve settled down together years ago, but Skwisgaar couldn’t be further from this mindset, especially in the midst of his bet with Murderface. Toki’s been trying not to be petty and jealous about all the slut-screwing that Skwisgaar’s been overindulging in lately, but he can’t really help himself.

This in mind, Toki glares at him tiredly and shoos his hands away, “Don’ts you haves a competitions to gets back to, or somethins?”

“I’m takingks a breaks,” Skwisgaar tries to flip his hair over a shoulder, but accidentally falls over and topples off the bed. Toki tries to stifle a laugh at his expense, as the blonde’s head pops back up and he tilts his chin up, “I meants to does thats.”

“Shores, pal,” Toki chuckles, and Skwisgaar gracelessly drags himself back onto the bed. He starts playing with Toki’s hair like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, and his breath reeks of booze as he mutters, “You mets her yets?”

“Whos?”

“The dumb dildo goils that Moiderface says you gots matched withs.”

Toki huffs, watching Skwisgaar bitterly wind a piece of his brown hair around his finger. The blonde won’t look at him, full lips pouting, and Toki tries to say as flatly as he can, “Noes, I haves a dates with her Fridays. And she amnst a dumb dildos, she ams goins to be reallies beautifuls and cool!”

Skwisgaar’s head lolls a bit as he levels Toki with a look of pure wasted sass, “Fucks that. You alreadies got someone’s what’s ams beautifuls and cools, and talenteds and ams....ams the best guitarist in the woild...”

Toki opens his mouth to protest, to say that he doesn’t actually have that because Skwisgaar is too strangled by his own commitment issues, but the blonde keeps going, “What ams her names?”

A tiny, wistful smile falls on Toki’s face, the excitement for his dream date clear, “Carolines.”

“Tccch,” Skwisgaar rolls his eyes hard, his entire body tensing at the mere mention of Toki’s eLadymate match. “That ams a stupids names. For a stupids goils. It all ams stupids.”

Toki huffs, face flushing as Skwisgaar comes closer, laying his head on Toki’s chest in a comfortingly familiar way. Blonde hair tickles his nose, a finger trailing up and down his chest in a way that makes him shiver. Toki refuses to be distracted, as he says bitterly, “You cants acts like a dildos about this, Skwisgaar. What’s about yous? You ams movins on with all thems sluts!”

“Ja rights, I amnst movins ons,” Skwisgaar snorts, and Toki looks at him in mild surprise. He’s been tangled up with the blonde long enough to know that he can’t hold his liquor - and it almost aways strips away any filter he has. But this isn’t the night for it - maybe Skwisgaar hasn’t moved on, but Toki is really trying to. The Swede continues, brushing the blonde hair off his own neck, and Toki tries to ignore the skin it exposes, “Screwins sluts and findingks your, eugh, ‘soulmates’ ams two differents bords.”

Toki looks away bitterly, “Sorries I’m tryins to finds someone what loves mes, insteads of fuckins four-hundreds floozies in two weeks just to proves a points to fuckins Moiderface.”

“You alreadies haves someone whats loves yous,” Skwisgaar presses a kiss against Toki’s neck, and his entire body flushes head to toe. “Mes. I loves yous.”

Toki’s entire world falls around him in a puddle at his feet. Skwisgaar Skwigelf just told him he loved him - it had been all Toki was waiting to hear, for the past eight years he’d been in Dethklok. And now? Now here it was, banging on his door, but it wasn’t right. Skwisgaar was drunk. He had just come from banging it out with a roomful of groupies. He didn’t mean it, Toki decides, and he mutters, “Tells me that’s when you ams sobers.”

“Whys? I tells you nows,” Skwisgaar noses against his jawline, and Toki’s breath stutters. “I ams too stupids when I ams sobers to tells yous.”

Toki feels his fluttering heart twist itself into knots, as Skwisgaar keeps cuddling him, his long fingers trying to get some sort of reaction out of the brunette as they skitter all over him. It’s almost sad, in a way, how bad Skwisgaar wants Toki to say fuck it to his date and melt back into him. Even though the blonde probably has a roomful of girls waiting for him just down the hall, and that makes Toki’s blood boil enough to keep his resolve.

“I’m not cancellin’ my dates, Skwisgaar,” he huffs, even though a small part of him is really struggling to resist this affection - one of his hands mindlessly strokes Skwisgaar’s hair. Skwisgaar glares at him, but still closes his eyes and revels in Toki’s touch, “I hopes you hates hers.”

“That amnst veries nice.”

“I don’t cares, I means it. But don’t worries,” Skwisgaar kisses the corner of his mouth, and then drops his head against Toki’s chest again. “I’ll be heres, when it doesn’t works outs. Which it wonts.”

And then he’s snoring. Toki pinches his temples with his free hand, hoping Skwisgaar can’t feel the way his heart hammers in his chest, and he tries to go back to sleep.

Inevitably, his date doesn’t work out. Skwisgaar doesn’t even try to hide his happiness, when Toki tells them about what happened - the two of them make eye contact, and Skwisgaar offers Toki the tiniest of smiles. Maybe, even though the date was a bummer, it had made way for something better. His real soulmate, and Toki finally lets himself melt against the blonde later that night when Skwisgaar slips back into his room.


	10. nickles - shirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i accidentally deleted the ask of whoever asked me for this on tumblr....so now it's an archive exclusive ;)

**Nickles / fluff prompt #1 / “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”**

They’re at a meeting, and Nathan is hungover as hell, and he doesn’t even realize it at first. He’d had...uh. A wild night, with Pickles. He'd just been trying to read some Shakespeare when his drummer had burst into his room, wheeling a shopping cart full of vodka in like his goddamn alcoholic fairy godmother. The two of them cleared out the whole cart, and...well. Things happened. Between the two of them. Things Nathan had never done with another guy in his life, and _fuck_ , he can't stop thinking about it...

Nathan was so fucking wasted last night, but he remembers dreds laced through his big fingers, Pickles’ looking at him with his trademark "fuck me" eyes, his drummer in...compromising positions, and fuck! He sneaks a peak over at Pickles across the table, daring to look at him for the first time all morning. The redhead looks just as worse for wear as he does, hungover and eyes red-rimmed and face slumped against his palm. And he’s—

He’s wearing Nathan’s shirt. What the hell. It’s so big that it’s hanging on one shoulder, and completely off the other. There’s so much skin showing from the neckhole alone, and Nathan's eyebrows shoot up as he get a glimpse of dark, brutal hickies smattered across his drummer's collarbone. Oh god. He did that, didn't he? He can remember it vividly, just as much as he remembers the reedy, whiny noises Pickles made in the process of getting them, and it sends Nathan into a blushing, coughing fit.

“Nathan. Is there a reason why you’re so distracted?” Charles’ voice cuts through his ears, and Nathan’s face reddens as his eyes drag themselves away from Pickles.

“What. I’m not, uh. Distracted," he growls out nervously, shoulders slumped up around his ears.   


“Charlies has been askingks you questioms for twenties minutes!” Skwisgaar rolls his eyes, fingers quickly plucking his guitar. “We wants to gets on with our days!”

“Ja, Nathans! We wants to gets on with our days!” Toki parrots the blonde, who glares at him sharply.

“Tokis, don’t starts your copies-cat shits with me again...”

“You donts starts _your_ copies-cat shits with me again!”

“You am doesing it right nows! Stops copies mes!”

“You stops copies me!”

The two of them, naturally, start bickering. Murderface groans, face in his hands, “Look what you fucking did, Nathan. We’re gonna be here FOREVER becausch YOU upschet the delicate meeting balanche.”

“Fuck you guys! I was paying fucking attention.”Nathan can feel his face absoloutely blazing, especially when Pickles’ raises a studded eyebrow at him. 

Murderface levels him with a look, “Oh yeah, then what was Charlesch talking about?”

Nathan‘s voice drops into a frustrated death growl, “As if you fucking know.”

Murderface puts a hand to his chest in mock-offense, “I am SCHOCKED you would even fucking imply that I don’t lischten to Charlesch!”

Their manager pinches his temples, “Let’s, ah, take a break. Alright? Back here in ten mi—“

Skwisgaar and Toki instantly stand up, never missing a beat in their argument and kind of looking like they’re either about to fight each other or start making out. They storm off, Murderface going in his own direction, and Charles huffs as he walks towards his office (probably to get some much-needed brandy). Naturally, this of course leaves Nathan and Pickles alone together, and god, he's is too hungover for this. He glances at Pickles again, and he can’t help it. He bites the inside of his cheek, palms sweaty against his jeans as he mutters, “Is that...uh. Is that my shirt.”

Pickles grins crookedly at him, and fuck. It’s too fucking cute, and it just gets worse, when he peers at Nathan through red-rimmed eyes, “Y’mean  our shirt.”

Nathan blinks at him, slowly, “Uhhhhhh. Pretty...sure it’s MY shirt. I kinda, like, wear the same one every day, Pickles.”

“I ain’t sayin’ it’s not yer shirt. It’s mine too now, is all. It’s only fair, ‘cause yer wearing something of mine,” Pickles smirks, leaning back in his chair and stretching. Nathan watches him with blatant interest - the muscles in his bare shoulder flexing, his small fingertips pointed towards the ceiling. Now that he knows Pickles is hot - which, let’s be honest, he’s known since he got his first Shakes ‘n Barrels music video on VHS - he can’t stop...looking at him. The shirt just makes it worse. Fuck.

Nathan mutters confusedly, “I’m wearing something of...?”

Pickles grins crookedly at him. Nathan looks down at himself - regular t-shirt, regular jeans. None of it belongs to Pickles, and—

Nathan has a very vivid memory from last night, of staring down at Pickles with absolute, turned-on surprise, as the redhead slingshots a very brutal thong across the room. In the present, he’s suddenly hyperaware of soft fabric in place of where his boxers should be, and his skin catches on fire.

“There ya go,” Pickles grins, standing up, patting Nathan on the shoulder as he walks past. “We could make a trade, if y’want, but only if I can strip ya fer it.”

Suddenly, Nathan has the energy to get up from his chair, and eagerly follow his drummer down the hall. When Charles comes back to the meeting in ten minutes, as expected, nobody is there.


	11. skwistok - addiction

**Skwistok / 54. “I don’t know, man, it’s like I’m addicted to you or something.”**

“Toki, no mores of this,” Skwisgaar says, resolve unconvincing as he pulls his pants up over thin hips and cinches his fly. “I means it, we gots to stop.”

Toki stretches catlike on the bed, naked body tangled up in white sheets, and he beams up at the blonde, “Yeps, no mores, pal.”

“I ams serious, Tokis!” Skwisgaar huffs, fumbling as he shoves his belt through the loops of his pants. He makes the mistake of looking over at Toki on the bed - ocean blue eyes drag over exposed muscles, and the Swede’s fingers on his belt stutter before his eyes quickly snap away.

“I ams serious too, Skwisgaar!”

Skwisgaar glares at him with the point of a finger, “Don’t you starts your copies cats shits with mes...”

“What? You likes when I copies you,” Toki pushes his messy hair out of his face with a shit-eating grin. “Remembers, when you showeds me how to does that thing with my—“

“Toki, I swears to gods...” Skwisgaar groans, face a violent shade of red. “ _Ja_ , I remembors, dildo. It just happened. But it...ams the last time we does that. Like I saids, no mores.”

Both of them hear the waver in the blonde’s voice, and they both know that this isn’t ending anytime soon. Even still, Toki throws an arm over his eyes dramatically, “Oh wowee, my heart ams brokens.”

Skwisgaar’s eyes narrow at him. “I’s havingks a feeling that yous not takingks me seriouslies.”

Toki shrugs a toned shoulder, because okay, he’s not taking Skwisgaar seriously. The first time Skwisgaar had said that they had to stop sleeping together, Toki had made the mistake of overestimating the blonde’s self control, and he spent the next week having an emotional episode in his room. Crying, raging, violently painting model planes, wondering how he’d ever go back to normal without Skwisgaar’s affections. But then there was knocking on his door, and the minute Toki opened it there were suddenly plush lips and hands all over him, talented hips pinning him to the wall...

He fell for it again the second time, launching himself into a self-pitying booze bender, but three days in he woke up with a lanky body curled around his own and an arm holding him protectively close. The third time Skwisgaar said they had to stop, Toki didn’t visibly react, and cautiously gave him his space. Less than 24 hours later, Skwisgaar was running a delicate finger up his thigh at the meeting table before making up an excuse for them to run off. And on and on it went.

“Okays, well, if yous done, then gives to me a kiss goodbyes,” Toki huffs dramatically, opening up his arms from where he lays stretched across the bed. The blonde twitches a bit, looking like he’s at war with himself as he mutters, “If I does, then you won’t tries to stop mes?”

“Sures,” Toki shrugs, because they both know that he has no say in what the blonde does anyways, and that’s why he’s never tried to stop him so far. If Skwisgaar is going to quit him for real, it’d be nobody’s choice but his own. Until then, Toki will let him back into his bed with no hesitation.

Skwisgaar flips his hair over his shoulder, face still flushed as he strides over to the side of the bed. He braces himself with a palm flat on the mattress, then leans down, pressing his full lips against Toki’s. The brunette easily kisses him back, and the blonde makes a noise of frustration as his other hand travels up to cup Toki’s face. Like always, something clicks perfectly into place, and the two of them can’t help but melt into each other.

This is a new record, of how quickly Skwisgaar can relapse. He climbs back into bed with him, and Toki can’t help but wonder why he’s so adamant about ending this. It’s so good, so perfect - just like when they play their guitars, they compliment each other in such a satisfying way. Before Toki was taken by Magnus, Skwisgaar couldn’t have given less of a fuck about the consequences of their hooking up - he initiated it every time, and was happy to do so. But now, he’s a nervous wreck. What could the reason be?

As the Swede kisses him and runs long fingers all over him, he realizes something. The touch that Skwisgaar has on him is...loving. The way that the blonde is kissing him is full of affection. When the Swede breaks the kiss and pulls back to look at him, his gaze is so full of adoration that Toki suddenly feels like he’s being strangled by an angel - the sweetest type of terrifying burn.

“Dere. No mores,” the blonde whispers, more to himself than anyone, and in that moment, the playfulness drops out of Toki almost completely and is replaced with concerned confusion. Skwisgaar looks so longing, so conflicted, and when Toki cups his chiseled face the blonde closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

“Skwisgaar,” Toki whispers, thumbs rolling over the Swede’s cheekbones. “Why you fights with yourself like this?”

Skwisgaar doesn’t say anything, and Toki waits patiently. Finally, he sighs softly, “It ams...hard to explains.”

Toki’s voice is gentle, “Can you tries?”

He gnaws on his lower lip, clearly racking his brain for the correct words. Slowly, he murmurs, “You ams....too important for me to lose. That’s why I has to let you goes, in the romantical way.”

Toki feels more confused as ever, tilting his head, “Whuts you means?”

Skwisgaar’s face is flushed, as he tucks a piece of hair behind his ear anxiously, “I knows if I, euuh, gives myself to this, then I ams inevitablies goingks to fucks it all up. It will be the ends of us. I’d rather haves you as just my friend then nothings at all.”

Toki blinks at him like a deer in headlights, the reality of Skwisgaar’s thoughts pouring over him. He wants to open his mouth and say that nobody has to lose anybody, that the two of them could be together, that no matter how bad Skwisgaar hurts him he’d stay devoted to him. Before he can say any of that, Skwisgaar’s face hardens into frustration, eyes squeezing shut, “But I cants let you goes. I-I don’t knows, is like I’m addicted to you or somethingk...no mattor how hard I tries, I...”

He trails off, pressing their foreheads together, before he kisses Toki again - slowly but burningly, passionate in a way that makes the brunette whine and curl his toes against sheets that cost more than most people make in their entire lives. “I says I wants to stops, but I can’ts bring myself to does it,” Skwisgaar murmurs against his lips, a shudder rolling through the brunette. “I haves no control, when it comes to yous.”

“No wonders why you freakins out. Yous a control freak, Skwisgaar,” Toki smirks softly. “You gottsa let that goes. Sometimes havins no control amnst a bad thing. Pickle says once - the best part about havins an addiction, ams the way it makes you feel when you gives into it. I can tells you, how it makes me feel to be with you.”

Skwisgaar swallows, nodding once, their breath mixing together and noses almost touching. Blue eyes stare into his own, desperate for some type of answer, as Toki says gently, “Beins with you makes me feels like I finallies am homes, after beins away for a real long time. Trust me, is a good feelin.”

Skwisgaar’s eyes flutter shut, face suddenly raw with emotion, as drops his head. Blonde hair curtains them both, as he whispers with an intense fragility, “That ams the thing, Toki. I alreadies lost you once. I can’ts...I don’t wants....”

Suddenly, Toki understands where Skwisgaar’s fear lies. They could casually hookup like this before - but things are different now. Toki is back from the clutches of Magnus, and the blonde is terrified that he’ll be forced to lose him all over again. It’s as touching as it is heartbreaking, and Toki watches Skwisgaar try and feign stoicism as he blinks away tears.

“Comes here, dildo,” Toki murmurs, wrapping strong arms around Skwisgaar, and the guitarist hugs him back almost instantly. “You amnst losin me again. Even if you piss me off, breaks my heart into a thousand pieces - I amnst leavins you. Okays?”

Skwisgaar nods weakly against his chest, and Toki can tell that he’s still nervous about putting so much on the line. Even still, the Swede says quietly, “I don’t wants this to be the last times.”

“It amnst,” Toki promises, pressing a kiss against soft hair. They lay there like that, with a better understanding of each other, before they both drift off to sleep. It’s the last time that Skwisgaar tries to end things between them, and after that day, their relationship is only full of beginnings.


	12. nickles - couldn't help it

**Nickles / 15. “I couldn’t help it and you know that!”**

Nathan, for once, is the first one who makes it to the meeting table. He’s never been here first before, and it’s almost daunting as he pulls out their manager’s seat and sits himself down in it. He gets a feel for it, digging the power, and he sits up straight and slaps on an expressionless face to channel his inner-Charles.

“Brutal,” he mutters to himself, gazing upon the rest of the empty table like a dictator, feeling like Joseph Stalin or something - before he considers getting himself a bag of chips to really bring the whole experience home. But then he feels a familiar pair of small, rough hands slide up his shoulders, and even more familiar lips press against his left earlobe.

“Heeey big guy,” Pickles grins against his ear, breath reeking of the usual intoxicating combination of vodka, weed, and cigarettes. Nathan can remember the first time they’d kissed, and he got to put a taste to the smell - it’d driven him so crazy that he couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks. “Yer early.”

“So are you,” Nathan rumbles with the quirk of an eyebrow, as Pickles’ hands slide down to his chest.

“I was lookin’ for my fuckin’...” Pickles trails off, not sure what to call him because they’re currently unlabeled purely due to lack of a better word. They’re exclusive, and Nathan knows he personally is in fucking love, but. Being called someone’s ‘boyfriend’ is not metal. So they don’t do it. He settles on, “...my fuckin’ _Nate’n_. ‘M fuhhkin drunk ‘n I want my Nateeee’nn...”

God, it’s too cute when Pickles says his name, and a warmth blooms in Nathan’s chest. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeeeeah,” Pickles says, pawing at Nathan’s arm in an effort to get him to push out his chair. “Lemme in. I needa fuckin’ snuggle.”

“Pickles, the guys are gonna be down here in like, a minute,” Nathan chuckles, taking a glance at the big clock on the wall. “We can....uhhh.” He mutters out of the corner of his mouth, “Snuggle after, or whatever.”

Pickles pouts, “Jest fer a second!”

Nathan huffs out a laugh, glancing at the door, before scooting out his chair. Pickles instantly launches himself into Nathan’s lap, straddling him, eyes red-rimmed from the weed as he gets comfortable. The two of them stare at each other affectionately for a second, and then Pickles grins crookedly as he presses his lips against Nathan’s. The frontman makes a contented hum, big hands sliding up his drummer’s back and pulling them flush together, even though a voice in the back of his head tells him they can’t have a make out session in Charles’ chair minutes before a meeting.

Nobody knows about the two of them being more than just friends. It’s not their fucking business, and neither of them would ever be in the mood for Murderface’s gay accusations and Skwisgaar’s suggestive chuckles and Toki asking them when they’re getting married or some shit. Even Charles would probably be a pest about it - lecturing them about workplace dynamics and co-workers dating and...ugh. No.

It’s just easier to keep it to themselves, and that’s why this isn’t a good idea. But Nathan can’t really find himself to care about it, especially as Pickles whines happily against his mouth and squirms around in his lap. He gets lost in it, and he’s not sure how much time passes - but he pauses at some point to look up at Pickles and just...melts. His drummer is shirtless and kiss-bitten, dreds a mess and face flushed from the alcohol and the make out, and Nathan swoons hard.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Nathan murmurs in a voice that’s way too sweet for a death metal god, kissing him with a tenderness to match, and Pickles is smiling against his lips as his fingers thread into dark hair—

“Uh. Nathan.”

“Mm, what?” Nathan purrs, rocking his hips up against Pickles’ as he grinds the smaller man down, but his hazy eyes suddenly pop open as he realizes that...that was not Pickles’ voice. That was fucking Charles, clearing his throat behind them. He looks up at his drummer, whose face is frozen in shock, and Nathan slowly cranes his neck to look.

Sure enough, Skwisgaar, Murderface, Charles, and Toki are all staring at them in shock. Nathan’s entire face catches on fire, as he opens his mouth to say something but only a weird confused death growl comes out.

Skwisgaar bursts into laughter, as Toki’s eyes sparkle, “Oh wowee! You two ams boyfriends?! Youse so cutes together, I always says that I thinks you ams in the loves! Is so happies for—“

“GAY!” Murderface screams, pointing at them in horror, other hand over his mouth. “IN OUR OWN HOME?!”

“In, ah. In my chair,” Charles deadpans, pinching his temples underneath his glasses. Pickles tries to say something, but suddenly everyone is trying to talk over each other, and Nathan’s eyes switch between the three of them in horror.

“—and I says, ‘duh! He doesn’t dates because he ams thorstings after Nathans!’ And I was rights! Ehehehueh, tries and keeps it in your pants, youse guys! I mean, reallies—“

“—they’s so CUTES! Pickle looks at Nathans like they goins to gets marrieds and be together forevers, and I gots dibs on beins the best mans at the weddins—“

“—OUR FUCKING HOUSCH!! GAY ISCH CONTAGIOUSCH! ISCH IT?? IF THISCH AFFECHTS ME IN ANY WAY I SCHWEAR TO GOD—“ Murderface pauses and points at Toki. “FUCK YOU TOKI IM THE BESCHT MAN!”

Nathan and Pickles stare at the four of them like a deer about to be smashed to pieces by a truck, and Charles manages to speak over all the commentary, “May I speak to you two in my office.”

Pickles hops off of Nathan’s lap, face burning as he snatches his shirt off the ground. Toki and Skwisgaar are both snickering and snorting, Murderface screaming about how he’s gotta violently scrub his eyeballs, and Charles is already walking down the hall.

“Fuck,” Nathan growls, face burning as he storms past his three bemused bandmates, Pickles right at his heels. He can tell his drummer is nervous at his intense silence as he stomps down the hallway, and he seems to confirm it as he grunts, “Pickles. I told you we didn’t have time.”

“Aw, Nate’n! Don’t be mad at me, it ain’t my fault!” Pickles says, one of his hands grabbing for Nathan’s nervously. “I’m fuckin’ drunk and you were...you were sittin’ ‘dere lookin’ all haht, like Joseph fuckin Stalin ‘er somethin! I couldn’t help it and you know theat!”

“I know, Pickles, okay, it’s just. Fucking....god, that was...” Nathan scrubs at his face with his hand that isn’t clenched up in Pickles’. “They saw me fucking grinding on your dick, dude. They were just—“

“Yeeeahh,” Pickles has the decency to sound embarrassed. “But! Dood. We don’t have to sneak around anymore! The worst of it is fuckin’ over, yknow? It’s all out there, so maybe we can enjoy it to the fullest now, right?”

Nathan huffs, because Pickles just doesn’t get it. He’s supposed to be their leader. Not this gooey romantic dickhead who kisses and snuggles his monogamous boyfriend at the meeting table. He doesn’t want to share that side of himself with them, and he doesn’t like people seeing him when he’s vulnerable. It’s not metal.

“They’re never going to respect me again,” Nathan growls to himself, palm on his forehead. “My god.”

“Nate’n,” Pickles whines, sounding so guilty. He squeezes his hand, voice small, “Is it—? Is it ‘cause yer embarrassed of...?”

He doesn’t even want to ask the question, and Nathan stops right in his tracks. He opens his mouth to tell Pickles _‘no, I could never be fucking embarrassed of you,’_ and how he’s wanted to be with him since the frontman was a shitty teenager trying to mosh at a Snakes ‘n Barrels concert, but he realizes they’re already in Charles’ office and their manager is staring at them expectantly.

“So,” Charles raises an eyebrow at them. “My chair.”

“We’re sahrry, dood! Okey? Is thet what you want? Sahrry fer tryin’ to bone in your chair!” Pickles snaps, freckled skin flushing as he crosses his arms. “At least someone is gettin’ laid around here!”

“You two know that was, ah. Incredibly reckless. We had a meeting scheduled.”

Nathan huffs, because here they go, having to stand there and get chewed out by Charles as usual. “Why did we have to come in here for this.”

“I, ah. Didn’t want to say this in front of the other guys,” Charles says, sliding some papers across. “But I drafted these up for you two, ah....” he glances at his watch. “Fifteen years ago.”

Pickles and Nathan both peek over to see the papers Charles is referencing. They’re old and weathered, just as their manager had said - and they’re workplace relationship disclosure forms. They both look at Charles, dumb faced, and he elaborates, “I’ve kind of, ah. Known since the beginning. So...I’m glad you two finally figured it out. All you have to do is sign.”

Charles...he’s happy for them, Nathan realizes faintly. And suddenly, he realizes what he and Pickles had been missing out on - because past Murderface’s screaming and Skwisgaar’s laughing and Toki’s starry eyes, there’s that same happiness that their friends have for them. He knows it, in the way that their bandmates always urge them to sit next to each other, never try and tag along on their friender-benders, refrain from teasing them at their obvious stolen glances and touches.

Maybe sharing their relationship with the people they’re closest with wouldn’t be that bad. Nathan looks over at Pickles, who still looks nervous as he gnaws on his bottom lip, and he thinks about Charles having these forms for fifteen years, and he thinks about how long he’s wanted his drummer for. If he had to choose respect or Pickles, the right answer is blatantly obvious.

“Give me a pen,” Nathan says to Charles, as he takes his drummer’s hand. Their green eyes meet, and Nathan murmurs, “I could never be embarrassed of the fucking best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Pickles’ eyes absolutely sparkle, as a wobbly grin comes to his face, “So-? Y’wanna really sign? Make it official?”

“Yeah. I do. I think the word ‘boyfriend’ can be metal. If it’s us,” Nathan rumbles, squeezing his hand, and Charles hands them each a pen. Neither hesitate before they sign, and when they get back to their other three bandmates, Nathan fondly flicks up the middle finger of his right hand while holding tight to Pickles’ with his left. Skwisgaar, Toki, and even Murderface can’t keep the smiles off their faces as they watch the couple walk away.


	13. skwistok - heartbeat

**Skwistok / 12. “my heart beats only for you”**

“Hey. Hey, Toki.” Nathan nudges him with a beefy elbow, voice a very loud whisper. “Hey, does it ever like. Piss you off, when you see chicks trying to fuck Skwisgaar? Does that ever piss you off. Does it.”

Toki inhales sharply through his nose, eyes trained on the scene in front of him. Sometimes it’s not easy, being the most desired guitarist in the world’s boyfriend - especially when nobody outside of the band even knows about their relationship- and he’d be lying if he said that it never got to him.

He’s watched women throw themselves at Skwisgaar for the past ten years, and he’s seen it enough to know that groupie trysts and orgies couldn’t have meant anything less to the blonde even if he tried. Toki had even told Skwisgaar that it was okay for him to keep messing around with groupies, out of courtesy, and the Swede merely waved him off and said it wasn’t necessary. He knows the blonde only has eyes for him, and that he isn’t interested in groupies anymore - so why does it still bother him so much?

Presently, Toki watches as a gaggle of metal chicks flood around the Swede after a show - clutching at his arms, lifting up their studded tops, begging him to take them back to the Dethbus. Skwisgaar waves a hand, always the gentleman, “Ladies, please. I gots to...euughh, rest my bodies so I can practice tomorrows, you knows?”

“But Skwisgaar!” One of the metal chicks begs, long black nails sliding up his back. “You won’t have to do much work, we promise!”

“Yeah,” another sidles up to him, hand on his chest. “We’ll take good care of you.”

Skwisgaar chuckles dismissively again, tossing his hair over his shoulder as he walks away, but they all follow tight at his heels. While the way he brushes them off is touching, Toki can’t help the dark and brutal jealousy that violently pours over him. He watches manicured hands slide over his boyfriend, doll eyes full of desire devouring him whole, and—

“Toki? Oh man, he’s...guys, Toki is pissed, I told you,” Nathan calls back to Pickles and Murderface, who are currently deeply invested in destroying the backstage rider. “You should come check this out, it’s really good drama.”

“I amnst pissed,” Toki snaps, arms crossing as he pouts. “It ams...it ams just floozies, you knows? He amnst goins to do anythin about it.”

“Yeah, but like. Do you ever think about the fact that Skwisgaar could have any hot chick in the _world_?” Nathan says, and then Pickles sidles up behind him.

“Yeah, dood. Holy shit, that’s gahtta make you like. Mad jealous, huh?” Pickles loops an arm around Toki, patting his chest with the other hand.

“Pickle! You ams so jealous of Nathans dating Abigail instead of yous that you fuckins broke up the whole band!” The brunette snaps, to which Pickles merely shrugs.

“I’m a fuckin’ jealousy pro! Thet’s exactly how I know you gaht it bad!”

“Yeah, if Pickles thinks you’re jealous, then man. You’re fucked,” Nathan laughs, and Pickles is laughing right there along with him. How they can be so cavalier about something that got so bad is genuinely confusing. Their relationship must be so strong, but what’s their secret?

Toki chews on his bottom lip, watching one of the girls laugh and swoon at something Skwisgaar says, before he signs an autograph for her. The brunette feels the jealousy prod at him harshly, even as he tips up his chin, “Noes, dealin’s with the goils ams parts of the job. Deys the fans, and we don’t wants nobodies knowins we datins yet, so—“

“Yeeah, dood, d’ya ever wonder if he’s gonna like, resent ya somedey fer lockin’ him down in his prime?” Pickles asks, as Toki tugs at his hair nervously, as the groupies burst into laughter and Skwisgaar does his fake little snorty chuckle, specifically reserved for the girls.

“OH!” Murderface pops up in his ear, putting an arm around his back as well. “Do you ever think about how Skwischgaar, like. LOVESCH pusschey? And if he schtays with you, he’sch never gonna get that again? Unlessch you give him a hall passch or schomething, and even schtill...”

“They could do, like. Orgies, with groupies. Hey, yeah, we could all go to an orgy.”

“Dood, Toki doesn’t like orgies. Thets why he never comes to ‘em with us.”

“Well, what the fuck is Skwischgaar schupposhed to do, then? Juscht not get pusschey FOREVER?”

“SHUTS THE FUCKS UP, ALRIGHTS?!” Toki yells, something snapping and red flooding in front of his vision, and his bandmates jump in surprise at the outburst. “Fucks you guys! I don’t gives a fucks what you says, Skwisgaar doesn’t—! He doesn’t cares about dats stupid shallow shits anymores!”

When Toki looks back at Skwisgaar he sees the blonde is looking at him in confused alarm. He huffs, shoving past Pickles and Murderface before stomping to the tour bus, throwing open the door and shoving his way under Skwisgaar’s covers. He cuddles in deep, inhaling the familiar ocean-scented shampoo, and hot tears sting the edges of his eyes.

The jealousy takes hold of him, squeezing him like a vice - and he curls himself around Skwisgaar’s pillow and tries not to fall apart. He isn’t sure how long he stays like that for, trying to push the thoughts of inadequacy out of his head, because that’s what jealousy really is, right? He doesn’t feel like he’s good enough - not to keep Skwisgaar’s attention, not to even be dating Skwisgaar, and it’s only a matter of time before the blonde sees what everyone else clearly does.

Toki jumps as long fingers skim over his back, tracing the long scar that runs down his left shoulder blade through his shirt. His voice is soft, “What’s you doings, all cries-babies in here?”

Toki pouts, eyes narrowing as he stares at the wall in front of him, “I amnst cryins...”

His voice clearly betrays this. After years of the two of them having terrible communication about their feelings, they both try - and still sometimes fail - to express things to each other whenever there’s an issue. That’s the only way this will work, between them, but sometimes it’s hard for them to fall into these types of conversations.

Skwisgaar is trying, though - his voice is concerned as he says quietly, “The guys told me they was messingks with yous.”

“Fucks them, I’m fines,” Toki sniffles, shoulders hunching up as he rubs at his face. “You can goes back to the goils now.”

“Toki...it ams just parts of the performskance,” Skwisgaar says, trying to calmly reason with him, but Toki already knows this. He knows he’s being stupid and jealous and irrational, but all he can do is wallow in it. “You knows that I don’t cares about fuckingks dem goils anymores.”

“Well, whys nots?” Toki squeezes his eyes shut, clutching at the pillow underneath his head with blunt fingernails. “Nathans ams right. You can gets anybodies in the whole worlds, and you waste it on me?”

Skwisgaar snorts, as if Toki is talking absolute nonsense, but how can he not see it? How can he not realize he can do better? “That ams the stupidest shit you ever says. You’s kidding, rights?”

“It amnst stupids!” Toki snaps, turning to face the blonde. Skwisgaar’s eyebrows raise when he sees the tear streaks on his rhythm guitarist’s face, and his face falls deeper into concern. Toki continues heatedly, “What’s I gots to offers you that can keeps you interesteds with mes?”

Skwisgaar looks at him incredulously, “Youse ams reallies being serious?”

Toki’s eyes fill up with tears again, as he turns back to face the wall. “Maybe you should goes back to fuckins them.”

Skwisgaar sounds irritated, “And why would I does dats?”

Toki really, really doesn’t want Skwisgaar to go back to rolling in piles of groupies. But he doesn’t want the blonde to resent him, so he huffs, “So you don’t hates Toki for taking that away from yous.”

“You didnst ask mes to stop with de goils, I made the choice for myskelf,” Skwisgaar says firmly, and Toki pictures the annoyance on his face, the cute little crease in the side of his nose.

The brunette mutters, “I always knows it ams goins to happen somedays. You get sick of mes and you moves on with someone betters, and I...I amnst goins to be able to gets over it. I amnst goins to be able to loves like this again, but you...”

For a couple beats, nothing happens. And then a warm body curls against his back, wrapping an arm around his middle and cuddling him close. Skwisgaar sweeps his hair off the back of his neck, planting a kiss there as he murmurs, “You ams such a dumb dildo, Toki. Let me ask you somethings. You ever hears me tell any groupies I loves dem?”

Checkmate. Toki’s pout lessens, as he mumbles, “Nos...”

“You ever sees me snuggles dem?” The tip of his nose nuzzles against Toki’s earlobe, and Toki feels something rattle inside of himself as the block of ice in the pit of his stomach slowly, slowly starts to melt. “Or braids dey hairs? Sleeps with all dey stuffed animals in my beds? Let’s them holds me all nights long?”

“I guess nots,” Toki whispers, turning himself over so he can face the blonde. Skwisgaar smiles with a soft, loving fondness - and Toki thinks to himself, ‘ _the groupies never got to see you smiles like this, either.’_

“I nevers will be sick of you, little Tokis. And you gots to believes me on dats.” Skwisgaar brushes his tears away, thumbs rolling over his cheekbones gently. The blonde brushes their noses together, then leans in and kisses him, and Toki clutches desperately to his shoulders at the overwhelming tenderness. He pulls back just a bit, leaving Toki swooning and glassy-eyed as he murmurs against his lips, “My heart onlies beats for yous. Okays?”

“Okays,” Toki whispers, cupping the blonde’s face and kissing him sweetly. They stay like that, for what feels like forever - exchanging chaste kisses and whispers of touches until Toki’s heartbeat levels out, and he comes out of the dark cloud of his own thoughts. He has the decency to look guilty, as the two of them lay there together, “I’m sorries I was beins a dumb dildo, Skwisgaar. I really does know that you loves me.”

“Oh yeeuh? Well nobodies has told to me that they loves me latelies....” he huffs dramatically. “How does I knows that you won’t leaves me for all the big bad groupie sluts?”

“Fucks you,” Toki laughs, rolling on top of him, blowing a raspberry on his neck as the blonde laughs embarrassingly loud. He thinks about Nathan and Pickles, laughing together over something that caused a monumental problem - and he realizes that communication really must be the secret to these things.

Toki grins, brushing blonde hair out of Skwisgaar’s face, one rough palm sliding down his stomach, “You knows I loves you. But...how about I shows you just how much?”

Skwisgaar arches an eyebrow, and he grins. “I gots no complaints deres.”

Toki messes with his belt buckle, but pauses first to ask, “You wanna prank de guys afters for fuckins with us?”

“Tokis, you reads my mind.”


	14. magnate - self-pity

**Magnate (+magpickles + nickles) / “I’m not gonna sit here and let you wallow in self pity.”**

Magnus Hammersmith has always been a fan of revenge. He really likes dishing it out - sometimes, he’ll put months into planning that shit. He’ll really get into a person’s head, figure out what exactly he can do to hurt them in the worst way. It’s cold, calculated, something that’ll make the person really feel like the knife has been twisted, deep into an artery. Watching the blood spill - the devastation, the betrayal, the pain - is the most satisfying part.

Tonight, however, revenge comes in a spur of the moment type deal. Magnus is with his bandmates at a party - Skwisgaar was screwing this death metal chick who’d tipped him off to some basement orgy, and since the blonde didn’t have his driver’s license he’d invited them all to come pal around in exchange for a free ride. Murderface is down there with him because the guy would never turn down an opportunity to get laid, but Magnus, Pickles, and Nathan all opted out. Nobody was really trying to see Skwisgaar and Murderface’s bare asses in the same night - especially not Magnus, because there was only one bandmate whose ass he was trying to see.

Said bandmate, currently, is pissed at him. Magnus didn’t even what what about, anymore - but when weren’t the two of them at each other’s throats? Pickles used to fucking adore him, and Magnus could tell you exactly what changed - the addition of Nathan Explosion into their lives. Pickles is too much of a pussy to make a move on him, and he’s too much of a pussy to stop fucking around with Magnus and tell him the truth. So, this is where the rhythm guitarist starts cooking up his plan to hurt Pickles like their drummer is hurting him.

“Hey,” Nathan hulks over to where Magnus sits out on the front porch, beer in hand, muscled arms crossing in his usual brunt aloofness. “Pickles is pissed.”

“I know,” Magnus huffs, sighing through his nose. Nathan doesn’t know, about the true nature of his and Pickles’ relationship - the redhead says it’s because he doesn’t want to make things weird for the others, but Skwisgaar wouldn’t care and Murderface already knows, so. One can put two and two together about why he doesn’t want Nathan to know.

They made a pact, not to care about or become involved in each other’s social lives. Pickles and Nathan break that rule with each other often - from Pickles interfering with Nathan’s relationships when he doesn’t think the girl is good enough for him (which is always), to right now. Right now, when Nathan mutters flatly, “I don’t, uh. I don’t like seeing him…like that. Upset. It’s not metal. And I’ll, yknow. Curb stomp you, if you’re fucking with him or whatever.”

Magnus looks at him in sheer disbelief. Isn’t this fucking rich, and the rhythm guitarist feels a twisting in his heart as he chuckles, “Yeah? Aren’t you the knight in shining armor.”

“Don’t make it gay. He’s my best friend,” Nathan shrugs a shoulder, sipping at the beer in his hand, and Magnus suddenly wonders if their frontman is drunk. It is weird, that he’d speak so freely about his protectiveness for Pickles. When Magnus squints at him, he can see a familiar redness around the rims of Nathan’s eyes. Maybe he’s more than drunk, even.

“Well, here’s the thing about Pickles, my man,” Magnus says, as Nathan throws the bottle behind his shoulder and fishes through a cooler for another. “Nothing ever makes him happy.”

“Yeah, well. Same goes for you,” Nathan smirks, and Magnus has the decency to pair a dull smile with his typical eye roll. “Seriously. I’m not gonna let you sit here and like. Wallow in self pity.”

Magnus lifts his dark eyes up to where Nathan towers over him, his own dark curls curtaining his face as he tilts his head back down and looks away. He mutters, “Yeah, well. I just so happen to like wallowing. I’m good at it.”

Nathan snorts out a laugh, because they both know that’s true. The frontman used to call him “crybaby,” because he was always throwing some type of mopey tantrum. Magnus sizes up the lead singer a bit - what was Pickles so afraid of, when it came to confessing his obvious feelings for the frontman? Yknow, besides the…solid muscles and the tall, hulking frame and the sharp teeth and the growling voice. Hm.

He rests his chin in his palm, raising an eyebrow at Nathan, “So, what you’re game plan? To keep me from all my self-destructive wallowing.”

“Uh,” Nathan considers this, glancing around a bit, before he decides, “Shots. We’re gonna go do some shots.”

Probably not a good idea, but. Like the rest of his bandmates, when Nathan makes a decision, Magnus knows he has to obey. They go inside, maneuvering through the gothic partiers until they find the table full of booze, and they go to town. Honesty, at first, it does help a little bit - the mind-numbing quell of alcohol takes his mind off of Pickles nicely, and tolerating Nathan is always easier with some tequila.

A few bottles and several joints later, Nathan Explosion is properly sloppy. Magnus has a higher tolerance than the kid, but even still, the guitarist himself is pretty smashed. And he’s feeling good, too - until he looks across the room and spots Pickles looking at them. No, not them - Nathan. He’s got that gooey, lovelorn look on his face, chin in his fucking palm and hearts circling his head, and Magnus feels a burning, wild jealousy suddenly flare up in himself. This only worsens when Nathan spots him, green eyes light up, and he offers a tiny smile in response.

“Fuck. This is…this is good shit,” Nathan’s slurred voice registers in his ear, followed by the gulping of alcohol. The frontman sways, stumbling a tiny bit as he tosses the empty bottle behind himself and reaches for another, and Magnus snatches it before he can grab it.

“Hey, buddy, come on, take a seat.” Magnus raises a spidery hand to help him sit down next to him. Nathan shrugs it off, but does take his seat, like a giant hulking lamb stumbling into a lion’s den.

“Give,” Nathan rumbles, giant hand sloppily closing around Mangus’ around the bottle, and he yanks at it. The guitarist stares at where they’re…touching, not letting up on his grip around the neck of the bottle, and Nathan keeps trying to twist it away. Huh. Touching wouldn’t usually happen, if Nathan wasn’t so hammered, and Magnus checks to see if Pickles is still looking this way. Of course, he is, sipping on some fruity drink and peeking up over hooded eyes. And then, suddenly, it hits. The perfect drunken idea for revenge - and it’s fucking legendary, poetic.

“You wanna do me a favor, buddy?” Magnus leans closer to Nathan, the two of them still holding the bottle, and he can practically see Pickles’ entire body tense up from where he stands watching them.

Nathan blinks in different intervals, brain working overtime to try and comprehend this question.

“My ex is here. Real nasty breakup, yeah. Loves someone else, hurt me like hell,” Magnus says in a low voice, like it’s a secret. Nathan raises an eyebrow, unfocused eyes scanning the crowd, “Fuck that. Which one?”

“Nah, don’t look, it’ll make it too obvious,” Magnus says, able to see Pickles out of his peripheral, and then mutters, “Kind of the jealous type. Won’t stop looking over at us.”

“Oh,” Nathan mutters lamely, tiny brain obviously not picking up on what Magnus is putting down.

“Yeah, yeah. So, y’wanna help me out?” The guitarist murmurs, his own drunkenness pushing him on as one of his hands falls on Nathan’s thigh. “Gimme a kiss, man.”

Nathan blinks hard at him, as if his brain just did a hard reboot. He looks down at Magnus’ hand on his thigh, then back up at his face, and he deadpans, “Uhhhhh. What.”

At the risk of being clobbered by a very angry hulk of a man, Magnus merely asks, “You ever had your heart broken before, man?”

Nathan shrugs a shoulder, swaying in his seat, “I guess. But…but that’s—“

“I just wanna twist the knife a little, is all. I bet you can understand the feeling,” Magnus says easily, giving his thigh a pat, because he knows all about Nathan’s dating life and he knows the big guy gets his soft heart shattered easily. And it’s not like Magnus is even lying to him - everything he’s saying is true, he’s just not specifying that the jealous ex he’s describing is actually Nathan’s best friend. And the fact that their frontman doesn’t that is nobody’s fault but Pickles’.

Nathan huffs, blowing a piece of hair out of his face, “Look, I don’t know if I can get that gay. It’s not metal.”

“Well,” Magnus hums, sets up the trap. “Would you kiss _Pickles_?”

“Yeah, I mean. Who wouldn’t?” Nathan grumbles automatically, dark eyebrows furrowed, and the trap snares. Magnus grins, as Nathan’s words registers to him and he goes ghostly while, making the redness of his eyes stand out as he shakes his head. “Er, well, no. I uhhh. I mean, I wouldn’t—“

“If you’d kiss Pickles but not me - or Skwisgaar, or Murderface - that’s something you oughta worry about. That’s feelings, man.” Magnus smiles at him sweetly, “Falling for bandmates is never a good idea.”

“I-I don’t—! I’m not ‘falling’ for anyone, that’s fucking disgusting,” Nathan growls violently, face flushing, muscles in his arms tensing.

“Prove it,” Magnus smirks, and Nathan growls before grabbing his face, warm lips crashing against his own. The rhythm guitarist puts on a show for Pickles - squeezing Nathan’s thigh, cupping his chiseled jawline, opening his mouth and tilting his head to make the kiss deeper. He’s doing exactly what Pickles wishes he had the balls to do, right in front of his face, and there’s no sweeter revenge than that.

Nathan makes a noise like he’s surprised as their tongues slide together, and his drunk brain lets him fall into Magnus’ rhythm without overthinking it. Everyone in the band knows that Nathan, past his blackened, brutal image, is a romantic at his core. He likes to take his time with girls, kiss them and be gentle when they want him to be, and it shows in his kissing skills. He’s really, infuriatingly good at it, and Magnus hates him just a little bit more for it.

“There, fuck. Fuck, did—“ Nathan huffs, forcing himself to pull away, eyes glazed over from drunkenness and post-make out haze, “Did she see?”

Magnus turns his flushed face, and holy shit. Pickles is standing there, eyes huge, small hands in fists, hair in his face and jaw on the floor. He looks livid. Heartbroken. Jealous. Everything Magnus feels every time he sees Pickles fawning all over Nathan, and he can’t help but smile, because revenge has come.

“Yeah, buddy,” Magnus pats his beefy shoulder. “You did good. Real good.”


	15. skwistok - hurt

**Skwistok / 40. “Oh god, you’re hurt!”**

“Shhh! Shhh! Don’t fucking tell Skwischgaar, he’ll fucking kill me!”

Skwisgaar looks up from his Swedish fashion magazine, raising an eyebrow at the sound of Murderface’s grating voice behind him.

“But Moidaface—“

“No! I’ll take care of it! Juscht—it’sch fine!”

“Owws!” Toki squeaks, and Skwisgaar is standing up from the couch almost instantly, a violent urge to protect practically strangling him at the sound of Toki in any sort of pain. Murderface makes this garbled noise when he sees the blonde, standing in front of Toki and grinning nervously.

“H-Hey buddy! What’sch up?” He tries to ask casually, and Toki merely smiles sheepishly.

Skwisgaar’s eyes narrow, arms crossing, “What ams goings on ovors heres?”

He’s been...a bit overprotective since Toki has come back from captivity, but can one really blame him? He’d went months without seeing the person he loved most in the world, wondering how badly he was being tortured just because none of them tried to stop his friendship with Magnus - and everything he’d imagined only paled in comparison to what actually went down. The four of them all made a pact, in place of their old one - instead of not getting involved in each other’s social lives, now their rule is to keep Toki safe at all costs, and it’s the least they can do.

“Nothing! God, schtop opressching Toki and let him have schome freedom!” Murderface snaps, trying to shove Toki away, and the brunette lets himself be pushed along.

“Stops right deres,” Skwisgaar snaps, and Murderface freezes. “Tells to me what the problem ams, before I get Nathans and—“

“NO! No Nathan!” Murderface hisses, waving his hands violently, because they both know that the frontman is almost as protective of Toki as Skwisgaar is, and he’s much more...forceful about it. “Look, we juscht—we were pallin’ around, and...”

Skwisgaar glares sharply, “Ands?”

“And Toki was being a dick and messching around with my—“

“ _Toki_ was messins around with it?!” Toki exclaims, pouting as he looks over at Skwisgaar and then glares threateningly back at their bassist.

Murderface tries slapping a hand over the brunette’s mouth, “No fucking schnitching on me, goddammit—!”

Toki snaps through the openings of Murderface’s fingers, “Moidaface told me to get insides and that it was gonna be real fun and cools!”

“ASCH IF YOU DONT KNOW WHAT AN IRON MAIDEN ISCH, TOKI!”

Toki points hard at him, “You said it was a machine whats for huggins!”

“ITSCH COVERED IN SCHPIKES!”

The two of them start bickering, but the sudden fearful tremor that wracks up Skwisgaar’s spine inspires him to put a stop to it. He steps in between them, blonde hair swinging, and grabs Toki by the shoulders. His voice is calm, but dangerously so, “Did you says you got insides de _iron maidens_?”

Toki gulps, looking down and away as he nods his head - the same guilty expression he used to pull back when he was a teenager and had been caught doing something sneaky. Murderface quickly butts in once he sees the blind rage on Skwisgaar’s face, “Calm your titsch, I didn’t schut it on him! I juscht wanted to schee if he was dumb enough to go inschide!”

Toki must see Skwisgaar’s about to blow a fuse, because he’s already trying to quell him even though he’s the one who was put into danger again. He tries to say easily, but he kind of cringes as he speaks, letting on that he’s clearly in some type of pain, “It ams okays! It reallies didnst hurts dat bad, I—“

“Whats?” Skwisgaar breathes, panic jolting through his body like lightning, and Toki looks like a nervous kicked puppy as he lifts up his shirt and flashes his side to the blonde.

“Oh gods! You ams horts!” Skwisgaar gasps in horror, feeling very, very sick at the sight revealed to him - Toki’s got a gash right in the exact fucking spot Magnus knifed him, the scar torn like a figurative and literal open wound.

“It ams alreadies numb in dats spot, sos when the spike gots me it reallies didn’t bothers me,” Toki waves a hand as if this is all no big deal, as if it’s not dripping blood down to the top of his pants, and Murderface is nodding right along with him.

“Yeah, he’sch fine! Don’t tell Nathan! He’ll yell at usch! And we—“

“If you don’t gets the fucks out of here, I’s will shoves your bass so fars down your throat that it comes out yous ass,” Skwisgaar says from low in his throat, voice laced with darkness as he takes an aggressive step towards Murderface, who doesn’t hesitate before shoving past the two of them and rushing away.

Skwisgaar’s blue eyes slide down to the wound, and he feels his breathing become uneven as the memory of the funeral whirls at him - of violently searching for Toki once the explosion hit, and finally finding him, but when it was already too late - Magnus with his hair wound tightly around a fist, the other hand brandishing a knife. Skwisgaar had never felt so helpless, so terrified, and the moment between when Magnus held up the knife and when he plunged it into Toki seemed to stretch on for an infinite amount of lifetimes, a moment that Skwisgaar has relived and blamed himself for over and over—

“Heys, I’m sorries,” Toki’s voice is soft, as one of his hands slides up Skwisgaar’s bare arm. “I-I knows I was beins a dumb dildo, I just wasn’t reallies—“

He cuts himself off right as Skwisgaar feels the tears start to roll, and Toki’s hands stutter in shock before instantly cupping his face, pale blue eyes huge. “Skwisgaar....”

“I’s supposed to be keepingk you safe. I fuckings suck at its, apparentlies,” Skwisgaar says bitterly, looking away from the brunette even as Toki moves closer to him, thumbs rubbing against his cheekbones.

“Noes, you does a real good jobs!” Toki argues, trying to direct his face back to look him, but Skwisgaar squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m okays, see? You donts gots to cries about—“

“If I would’ve been protectingk you befores, you’d haves nevor been taken from mes,” Skwisgaar snaps tearfully, pushing away from the surprised brunette. “When I lets you into dis band, you became my responsibilities, and it ams my job to makes sure you ams okays. And you never ams, because I fucks it all ups!”

Toki stares at him, voice a little whine as he reaches for him again, “Skwisgaar—“

“I wants to be alones right nows,” he snaps tearfully, getting a glimpse of Toki’s dejected face as he turns and walks away.

“Noes, waits!” Toki pleads, catching him by the wrist, and the blonde whips around to face him. Usually the rhythm guitarist knows better than to stop him when he’s trying to take a minute for himself, because ‘I want to be alone’ is code for ‘I don’t want to throw a tantrum and get into a huge fight.’ But even still, Toki tries again, as he sighs, “I’s real stupids, Skwisgaar.”

The blonde raises an eyebrow in question, “What’s dat got to do with anythingk?”

“I puts myself in these simkuations everies time. Nobodies was able to stops me from hangins out with Magnus, I walks right into the spiky huggins machines...it amnst your faults that I keep doesing dumb shits,” Toki says, burying his face against the blonde’s chest, trying to get some sort of reaction.

Skwisgaar just stands there, hands hovering unsurely because he feels like if he touches the brunette he might accidentally launch him into some type of new and exotic danger. Toki’s voice is muffled against his shirt, “The entire reasons I even mades it out of dere, is because of yous.”

Skwisgaar chances a look down at him, tears dripping down his face as he blinks, “Huhs?”

“When I was with Magnus. Knowin I would comes back to you, thinkins about you kissins and huggins me, or even just watchins you play...that ams enough to get me through anythin,” Toki presses their foreheads together, and Skwisgaar sniffles weakly as he finally settles his arms around the brunette.

“But Toki,” Skwisgaar says hoarsely. “I amnst—“

“You takes me in off the street, Skwisgaar. You gives me a home and a family, you loves me... you don’t see that you always _savins_ Toki?” The rhythm guitarist cups his face lovingly, pressing a delicate kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Now I ams gonna be savins you, from youself. Gets you out of your blonde dildo head.”

“What does you _mpphh_ -“ Skwisgaar doesn’t really get a chance to finish the question, because Toki tilts his head and kisses him deeply, hands sliding from the sides of his face and into his hair. The Swede is still too jarred to do anything but just kind of stand there, but his brunette is dead-set on melting him.

He’s coaxed back onto the couch, Toki straddling him, one strong hand pushing against his chest and keeping him down as the other strokes circles on his cheekbone. His lips are so...soft, and his body is so solid, and when he nibbles on Skwisgaar’s bottom lip and pushes their hips together, he can’t help but groan in approval.

“I’ll tries better to be smarters, if you tries to stop blamins youself,” Toki whispers against the shell of his ear, his mustache tickling the side of Skwisgaar’s face. The Swede lets out a breath, nodding in confirmation, and Toki kisses his cheek tenderly.

“I can’t promskise I’s will stops feelingk guilties. But I will tries,” Skwisgaar whispers, blue eyes soft as Toki tucks his hair behind his ears on either side.

“My dad hurts mes. Magnus hurts mes. But none of dat will evers be yous fault,” Toki murmurs against his lips, shivering as Skwisgaar’s long fingers trace the scars on his back. “Yous the first person who ever shows me love, and heals it all ups.”

“I do loves you,” Skwisgaar murmurs, punctuating this with a kiss and an affectionate “dildo.”

“I loves you too,” Toki whispers, and the two of them fall back into making out on the couch.

“Alright, Schwischgaar, I’m willing to bribe you scho long as you don’t tell Nathan I got Toki hurt. How doesch my collection of—OH GOD! On the COUCH? We watch TV there!!” Murderface screams when he comes back twenty minutes later, hands slapped over his eyes to try and block out the image of the guitarists in the throes of passion.

“Now we evens,” Skwisgaar shrugs at him, then turns his attention back to the brunette in his arms.


	16. skwistok - broken

**Skwistok / 94. “I’m broken and you can’t fix it”**

“Toki?” Skwisgaar asks hesitantly, stomach dropping into his feet, because he really, really doesn’t want to be here. But he knows that if anyone’s going to break through to the brunette, it’s him. Toki needs him, even if he won’t acknowledge it, and this is why he lets himself into the younger man’s room, stepping inside hesitantly, looking at the figure curled up in the small bed.

Skwisgaar isn’t sure why he expected everything to click back into place the minute they got him back. He thought the two of them would fall into each other’s arms, succumb to the decade’s worth of romantic tension, and shred off into the sunset together. Turns out...he’d been a bit too optimistic.

Toki hasn’t spoken to any of them, no matter how hard they try. And they’re really trying - Skwisgaar has never seen the guys put this much effort into anything. No matter what any of them do, no matter what they offer him, they can’t earn themselves a reaction. Is he stuck in a new, more serious punishment hole? Or is...is he mad they didn’t come for him sooner?

“Euuhh...” Skwisgaar suddenly realizes he has no idea what to say. _How was captivity? How bads did you get fucksed up because we wasnt protectings you?_ He realizes he’s waiting for Toki to say something, which isn’t likely to happen, and he wets his lips nervously. “Uhh, how’s it...goinks in deres? Ups in your heads, I mean....lots of empties space...ehuhh....”

Yikes. No response. He tries not to look at where Toki is curled up in a quilt against the wall, tries not to think about how the beautiful blue of his one eye is discolored from damage, how pale and thin and frail his previously muscular body looks. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying again, “You just goingks to lay deres like dats? Or...”

He does indeed just keep laying there. Skwisgaar scratches the back of his blonde head, feeling unsure around someone he’s never felt a moment of unfamiliarity with in his life. What do the other guys do when they come in here? Murderface probably uses the silent audience as an opportunity to talk about his own problems. Pickles must do the thing he does when he gets nervous and can’t stop talking, and Nathan probably doesn’t say anything at all. He can’t really use his friends as a jumping-off point, anyways - because prior to his departure, Toki was _more_ than just his friend, so it’s really not comparable.

“Sos...yous didnst miss much while yous were away,” Skwisgaar hears himself speaking, but isn’t sure where he’s going with it as he sits stiffly on the end of Toki’s bed. His long fingers splay out against the familiar bedspread - sheets he’s spent so many nights in the past tangled up in. He glances at Toki’s curled up form, and flashes back to a year ago, when the brunette would tear him apart in this very spot, with his love-drunk eyes and bruising kisses.

“We, euuhh...drinks like sad babies for a whiles, Nathans gots like six new liver transplants. I porsonally don’t remembors much from when you were gone. Not until it was times to saves you, and den we all got seriouslies abouts it,” Skwisgaar continues, voice sounding foreignly soft. “De fans got real crazies, because they misses you. We got de same way, with our partyingks, because....we missed yous, too.”

He hides behind the ‘ _we_ ,’ even though he really wants to say ‘ _I._ ’ _I misseds you. I hates my life without yous in it. I could barelies function without you. I wants to be with yous for real dis time._ Why is he still afraid to express these things? He swore to himself if Toki came back, he’d be better at communicating his emotions - but just like always, there’s something anxiously holding him back.

“I bets yous wonderingks why I don’t gots my guitars here with mes,” he murmurs, fingers itching to do something. “Since u got takens...I can’ts play anymores.”

The spot where Toki lays underneath the blankets trembles - the first reaction he’s gotten out of the brunette thus far. Skwisgaar quickly continues, hoping he can really break through, “I gots back from the funerals and went to plays, and it just...it ams gone. Nathan says he thinks my playingk ams tied ups in my, eugh. Emotions for yous. Being so worrieds about where you ams, it puts a block on mes, I guess.”

Toki sucks in a wet breath of air, still shuddering, but continues not to speak. Skwisgaar’s kind of on a roll now - maybe it’s easier to talk, when he isn’t expecting a response back. “While you was gones, I barelies even thoughts about not beingk able to plays anymores. When the sad thoughts got past all the crystals meth and brewskis, it just...it just was yous. The onlies thing I wants back ams yous.”

The blankets move. Skwisgaar’s heart jumps into his throat, as Toki mutters hoarsely, “You ams wastins your times.”

Skwisgaar’s throat bobs as he stammers, “W-What’s you means?”

“I amnst the same Toki dat I was befores. You misses someone who ams alreadies gone,” Toki whispers, curling in on himself further. “I ams broken, and you can’t fixes it.”

“I-I know I can’t fixes it,” Skwisgaar murmurs back, daring a flat palm to the center of Toki’s back through the quilt, and the brunette flinches at the contact. The blonde’s voice is nothing more than a whisper, “But I am brokens too, Tokis. We mights nevor be normals again, but. We can gets through it togethors.”

Toki goes back to being quiet for what feels like forever. They both know Skwisgaar is too stubborn to leave, and the blonde resigns himself to the fact that he’s going to keep sitting here until he either falls asleep or Toki says something to him. Just as he starts to nod off sitting up, he snaps awake as the brunette’s scratchy voice hits his ears again.

“Will you holds me,” Toki whispers so quietly that he almost doesn’t hear it, and it’s more of a demand than an inquiry, but Skwisgaar is more than happy to oblige. He doesn’t waste a second, making sure to move very carefully and intentionally as he slips his way underneath the quilt, and presses himself himself against the brunette’s curled-up form. When he slings an arm around him, Toki flinches again, but one of his clammy hands wraps around Skwisgaar’s and holds on tight.

“I shouldnst have been friends with Magnus,” Toki sighs quietly, as the blonde starts to fall asleep again. “But you guys shoulds have comes for me sooners. We all fucksed up.”

“We knows we fucksed up, Tokis. Reallies badlies. But you can’t push us outs...you gots to let us be dere for yous,” Skwisgaar whispers, watching a tear slide down the plane of Toki’s sunken cheek. “We don’t says it veries often...but we needs you in dis band. We _loves_ you.”

“‘We,’” Toki echoes, and Skwisgaar can’t help the tiny smile that graces his features, and the nervous warmth that blooms in his heart.

“‘I’ loves you, dildo. You gots to knows dat,” Skwisgaar murmurs, and Toki nods his head, smiling faintly for the first time since he’s been home.

It takes at least half an hour of Skwisgaar holding him close, whispering sweet nothings, kissing the back of his neck softly, before the rhythm guitarist starts to melt like a block of ice. He’s still shaky and cold and nervous, but Skwisgaar has a feeling this is the first time he’s felt safe in a long, long time.

“I wants you to be able to plays again,” Toki whispers, squeezing his hand. “I wants us to be okays.”

“We wills be, my little Toki,” Skwisgaar nuzzles against his ear, planting a kiss right behind it, and he believes that.

The two of them stay curled up together for the whole next day. Catching up on sleep neither of them had been getting, softly snuggling against one another, indulging in feather-light touches and even gentler kisses. It feels like home, Skwisgaar realizes. He hadn’t realized how lost he’d been, until he’d gotten him back.

In the morning, Toki finally gets out of bed to eat breakfast with the other guys, and they’re practically hysterical with happiness to see him up and talking. The brunette lets all the attention and love wash over him as they orbit around him, trying to fill him in and make him laugh and pal around, and Skwisgaar’s heart is full. His family is finally back together.

He picks up his Explorer, inhales deeply, and he plays.


End file.
